


7 Up

by cherrystreet



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Bottom Louis, Death, Domestic, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up Together, Hand Jobs, Harry's POV, I promise I wouldn't have included it if it wasn't tasteful, I wouldn't do that to you people, M/M, Pining, Smut, Top Harry, adding the death tag because some people requested it, and it's not tragic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 12:26:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 51,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5828539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrystreet/pseuds/cherrystreet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Very loosely based on the British TV show "The Up Series" and somewhat inspired by the song “Something I Need” by Onerepublic, we follow the lives of Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson in an interview setting every seven years. They fall apart and come together, their lives and emotions recorded. Harry calls it a time capsule. Louis calls it a pain in the arse.</p><p>---</p><p>  <a href="http://cherrystreet.tumblr.com/post/138193184412/title-7-up-author-anonhere-pairing-harrylouis">Tumblr</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I: The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> *Important to read prior to starting 7 Up if you are easily triggered; adding this for everyone who asked!  
> [Read](http://cherrystreet.tumblr.com/post/138823186932/important-information-about-7-up)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want us to fall  
> in love like drops of rain,  
> not these small passing showers.  
> I need wind.  
> I need lightning.  
> I need trees blown off their roots.
> 
> I want us to fall  
> into each other.  
> Into the hollowness of  
> our souls.
> 
> We are all a little empty inside.  
> All I want is you.
> 
> You fill me  
> even if it is only  
> for a little  
> while.
> 
> \-- RM Drake

_**September** _  
_**Age 7** _

Harry Styles is seven years old when the rules of a new television series are explained to him. He’s sat nervously on a barstool, green eyes wide, hair combed into a mushroom cut, looking around the room at the camera workers. His mum is stood off to the side, chatting with some of the production crew, looking over at Harry every so often, giving him a reassuring wink whenever they make eye contact.  
  
A blonde woman who appears to be in her late 20’s crouches down to meet Harry’s eyes. She has a warm smile and when she cups his shoulder in her hand, he immediately relaxes.  
  
“Congratulations, Harry!” she exclaims cheerfully. “You’ve been chosen to be a part of _The Up Series_ , along with some of your other classmates. Today, we’re going to ask you a few simple questions while that man records you talking,” she says, pointing to a tall man with a dark moustache. “And then, when you turn 14, we’re going to ask you the very same questions, and then again when you’re 21, so on and so forth.”  
  
“Wow, 14? That’s a long time from now,” Harry says, furrowing his brows.  
  
The woman chuckles. “It is, indeed. And we’re going to keep up with this process, every seven years.”  
  
“And you’re going to ask me the same questions every time?”  
  
“Indeed, we are.”  
  
“Is there a wrong answer?”  
  
She smiles. “Absolutely not. We want to hear _Harry’s_ thoughts, which will be different from anyone else’s thoughts that we may interview.”  
  
Harry thinks about that for a moment, and pokes his tongue through the hole where his bottom front tooth is missing. “But won’t my answers be the same every time we talk? I’m still me, even seven years from now.”  
  
The woman squeezes his shoulder gently. “That’s the beauty of this documentary, Harry. Your mind is going to grow and change every time we talk, which means your answers will grow and change, as well. It’ll be very interesting, I promise you.”  
  
Harry frowns. “Will I come back to this classroom every time you ask me these questions?”  
  
She laughs and looks over her shoulder. “Anne, your son is full of questions. Who knew such a young boy would have to much to wonder about?”  
  
He smiles. “And seven years from now, I’ll have even _more_ to wonder about.”  
  
She nearly snorts at that one, leaning down to meet his gaze once more. “You’re a bit fresh, aren’t you?” Harry smirks. “But no, Harry, we won’t make you come to this classroom every time we interview you. One day, when you’re grown, you might not live here in England anymore. You might be in another part of the country, or in Australia, or the United States. We’ll find you, and come to you.”  
  
He shakes his head violently. “I’m never leaving my mum.”  
  
Anne smiles from across the room. “Now, I hope _that_ was recorded!”

 

  
They take another few minutes to get the camera equipment fully set up, explaining to Harry what the bright lights were used for, and why they were hooking a microphone up to his shirt. Once he was settled comfortably on his chair, the blonde woman claps encouragingly, and says, “Okay, Harry, whenever you’re ready!”  
  
Harry clears his throat and looked into the camera, just like he was told to. “Hello, um, I’m Harry Edward Styles, I am seven years old, and I will be eight on February 1st. I am in year two of school and my favourite subject is literature. I like to read, ride my bike, play with my sister Gemma, and watch films with my family.”  
  
He looks over at Anne, who gives him a thumbs up. The interviewer from off camera, a young man with glasses that take over his entire face, says, “It’s nice to meet you, Harry Styles. Are you ready for our questions?”  
  
“I think so.”  
  
The adults in the room chuckle quietly. “Okay, Harry, here’s your first question: what goals do you have for yourself right now?”  
  
Harry ponders for a moment. “Like, something I would like to be able to do eventually?”  
  
“Exactly. What is seven-year-old Harry Styles’ goal?”  
  
He thinks. “Okay. Um, I think my goal would be to finish the book I’m reading with my mum. It’s really thick and has a lot of words in it that I don’t know yet, but I would like to finish it by the time summer holidays start.”  
  
“That’s lovely, Harry. Alright, your second question is: what goals do you have for yourself in the future?”  
  
“Anytime in the future?”  
  
“Whatever future means to you, love.”  
  
He chews on his bottom lip. “I think I would like to make new friends for myself. Mum tells me I’m very shy and that’s okay, but that makes it harder for me to find friends. The next time we talk when I’m 14, I hope I have a lot of new friends.”  
  
He looks over at Anne, whose chin is quivering.  
  
“Perfect. Harry, what’s something you’re afraid of?”  
  
“Oh, this question is much easier,” Harry says, making everyone laugh. “I don’t like the dark, or bees. This summer, I was stung for the first time, and now I am absolutely _petrified_.” The room bursts out into laughter again.  
  
The man with the glasses clears his throat, chuckling. “I’m very sorry to hear that, love. And we have one more question for you.”  
  
“That’s it?”  
  
“That’s it! Okay, Harry: what does love mean to you?”  
  
Harry looks down at his shoes and then back up to the camera. He swallows twice before answering. “I think love is when you do something for someone else even when you don’t want to because you know it’ll make them happy.” His gaze travels over to Anne, who is wringing her hands together. “I know my mum loves me and Gemma. She tells us all the time, and I can tell she loves me every time she hugs me. I can just feel it.” His eyes water a bit, and he rubs them before continuing. “My mum told me and Gemma that even though she and my dad aren’t going to live together anymore doesn’t mean they don’t love _us_ , it just means they don’t have that love for _each other_.” He huffs out a breath, afraid to look in his mother’s direction. “This question is a bit tricky, I’m sorry if that answer is terrible.”  
  
The interviewer shakes his head. “No, Harry, that’s fantastic. Would you like to add anything else?”  
  
Harry nods. “Yeah. Okay. I think love is when parents stay married, even when they don’t want to, because they know it’ll make their kids feel happy.” He works up the courage to look directly at his mum, who has tears streaming down her cheeks. “Mummy, it’s okay. It is.”  
  
The blonde woman whispers just loud enough for Harry to hear, “Perceptive boy you’ve got here, Anne.”  
  
Anne sniffles. “Apparently so.”

 

After Harry and Anne fill out some final paperwork and say their goodbyes to the crew with the promise of _See you when you’re 14!_ , they walk out of the classroom and into the hallway, nearly bumping into the next boy in line. His mother is standing beside him, balancing a baby on her hip.  
  
She holds out her hand toward Anne. “Hi, I’m Jay. My son Louis was chosen for _The Up Series_. Did you just get done filming?”  
  
Anne shakes Jay’s hand. “Yes, we did. This is Harry, and I’m Anne.”  
  
Louis looks nervously at Harry. “Were the questions hard?”  
  
Harry shakes his head. “Nope, it was all really easy, and kinda fun.”  
  
Louis relaxes visibly. “Okay, good. I’ve never done this before.”  
  
“Me either, but I liked it!”  
  
The boys grow silent, listening to their mothers chat for a bit, eventually exchanging phone numbers. “Good luck to you, and we’ll keep in touch,” Anne says. “Hopefully before we have two teenage boys on our hands!”  
  
Jay laughs. “I can’t even think about that. Louis and Charlotte are enough. I can’t imagine having a teenager and a preteen…”  
  
Anne and Jay say goodbye, and Anne grabs Harry’s hand in her own as they walk down the corridor.  
  
“Jay and Louis are lovely,” she says.  
  
“Yeah, they seemed nice,” Harry says, skipping to keep up with his mum.  
  
“Would you like to have Louis over our house to play?”  
  
Harry smiles, his dimple popping out. “Can he?”  
  
Anne laughs. “We’ll call up his mum another day, love.”

* * *

 _**September** _  
_**Age 14** _

After Harry’s first interview, Anne had made it her mission to find Harry some genuine friends and called up Jay the day after their first interview, asking her if she and Louis wanted to stop by for a cuppa and some time for the boys to play. Jay accepted happily, saying it was always lovely to make new friends, no matter the age, and together, the four of them - plus baby Charlotte - spent the afternoon laughing and thoroughly enjoying each other’s company.

Harry and Louis have been inseparable ever since.

Each year, the boys grew increasingly closer, their adoration for one another blatant and obvious to anyone watching. And by the time year nine rolled around, Harry and Louis were stuck to each other like glue, occasionally allowing Liam and Niall into their secret club, whom they met in year seven.  
  
Harry, now 14, is sat still on the chair, similar to the one he sat in seven years prior. This time, though, his mum isn’t present, and his nerves are significantly lessened.  
  
The same blonde woman from before - Eloise, Harry learns - smiles at him. “Remember, love, the more open and honest you are, the more fabulous this documentary will turn out to be, yeah?”  
  
Harry nods.  
  
“Okay, Harry, whenever you’re ready.”  
  
He clears his throat. “Uh, hello. It’s me again.” He smiles. “I’m Harry Styles, I’m 14 years old, and my birthday is still February 1st.” A few chuckles go around the room. “I am in year nine of my schooling and I still like literature the most. My best friends are Louis, Niall, and Liam.”  
  
“What are your goals for your current self?”  
  
Harry pauses briefly before answering. “Probably to really apply myself this year and do well so I can get into an excellent university. I think I would like to be a lawyer someday, maybe.”  
  
“And what are your goals for the future?”  
  
“To get a job by the end of the year. I know quite a few places that are hiring. It would be a big help to have my own money and stop asking my parents.”  
  
The interviewer - Augustus - laughs. He’s the same man from before, but now his glasses are gone. “I bet your mum would love to hear that.”  
  
“Probably, yeah.”  
  
“Harry, what’s something you’re afraid of?”  
  
Harry hadn’t remember the questions exactly, and he desperately wishes he had. He wanted to be more prepared for this, to come up with a well thought out lie, but before he can think better of it, he lets the truth spill out, slowly and quietly.  
  
“I am absolutely and dreadfully afraid of telling my best friend that I’m in love with him. I don’t think I quite realized it until recently, but now that I’ve thought about it, and finally said it out loud, it’s all I can think about, really.” The entire room is silent. No one moves for several seconds, which might as well feel like hours, and Harry can’t stop squirming in his chair. His throat feels unbearably dry. “You said be honest, so I’m being honest!”  
  
Augustus laughs. “No, Harry, that’s beautiful. I’m glad you’re so honest.” Harry shrugs, and Augustus continues. “Last question: what does love mean to you?”  
  
Harry can’t help but smile. “For my birthday last year, Louis gave me a card that had pictures of us inside it and he wrote about all of his favourite memories of us since we met when we were seven. And he wrote about things I don’t even remember happening. Like, apparently, one time, I was having dinner at his house and his sisters were fighting over who got to sit next to me. And normally when they argue, it bugs him, but in this particular instance, it didn’t because it means that his sisters love me like one of their own and it makes him happy to see that.” Harry looks down at his lap and pulls absentmindedly at a thread on his trousers. “I don’t know. It was just a lovely card and made me feel really appreciated.” He shrugs, and then looks directly into the camera. “Love, to me, is the ideas and words written on the inside of that birthday card from my best friend.”

 

  
It doesn’t dawn on Harry until after they’ve turned off the cameras that the crew knows Louis personally, and that they could tell him _everything_.  
  
He approaches Eloise. “I might tell him one day,” he says, his palms clammy and voice wavering. “So can you please not spoil it for me?”  
  
Eloise smiles. “We won’t say a word, Harry. But you should tell him, most definitely. Trust me on that one.”

* * *

It takes nearly another year for Harry to work up the courage to even so much as hint to Louis that he _might_ be interested in him as more than just a friend.

They’re sat at the edge of Harry’s pool, feet dangling into the water. The July weather isn’t unbearable, but it’s still uncomfortable, and Harry is grateful for the opportunity to cool down. He leans back on his hands, closing his eyes in the sunshine, when he feels Louis’ hand on his own. His heart feels like it’s caught in his throat when he opens his eyes to look at Louis. Louis catches his gaze and laughs.  
  
“Oops, sorry, mate. Didn’t see your hand there.”  
  
Harry forces out a weak laugh. Neither of them speak for several tension-filled moments until Harry talks first. “I’d let you hold my hand, you know.” His voice is barely above a whisper.  
  
Louis’ laugh sounds as fake as Harry’s. “I’m sure you would.”  
  
“I would!”  
  
“I know, that’s what I’m saying.”  
  
Harry rolls his eyes. “Lou…”  
  
But Louis ignores Harry and takes that as his invitation to cannonball into the pool, completely soaking Harry from head to toe.

* * *

By the autumn, Harry is nearly buzzing out of his skin with how badly he wants to kiss Louis. And he knows it has to be obvious; whenever Louis talks, Harry has to actively force himself to look away from Louis’ lips. _Think about anything else_ is the permanent mantra swimming in his mind.

He used to feel bad about it, really. Guilty, almost, that he’d spend the day with Louis, doing basic lad stuff, and he’d have to nearly run home to get himself off in the darkness of his bedroom, biting his lip, cursing that he got to this point.  
  
But now, he’s so consumed by Louis, that he allows it. He allows his thoughts to wander to Louis whenever he’s sat in class, he allows himself to wonder what Louis tastes like, he allows himself to pretend his feelings for Louis are mutual and not at all awkward and one-sided.

He lets it overwhelm him until he physically can’t hold it in anymore.

He’s sat beside Louis on his couch a few weeks before Christmas. A film is playing - something horribly boring that neither boy has paid much attention to since it started up - and Harry puts his hand on Louis’ knee, just to touch any piece of him that he can. He needs the contact to settle himself, to calm his nerves. He can feel the words on the tip of his tongue:  
  
_Louis, I can’t stop thinking about you.  
_  
_Louis, I’d do anything to be able to kiss you.  
_  
_Louis--  
_  
“Harry, can I kiss you?”  
  
Harry whips his head around so quickly, he nearly pulls a muscle. “You… What?”  
  
Louis is blushing a vibrant shade of scarlet, his blue eyes wide, but unwavering. “Sorry, that’s weird, right? Fuck.” He starts shifting away from Harry on the couch before Harry can do anything to react, and stands up. “Jesus, I’m embarrassed, I’m so sorry, Hazza. Do you want to go home? Yeah, just leave. Go ahead, no worries.” Louis laughs nervously, running his fingers through his fringe.  
  
Harry has never seen Louis so flustered. It’s so unlike him to be so shy and uncomfortable. He’s usually the put together one while _Harry_ is the one tripping over his own words, and for some reason, it makes Harry want to kiss him even more, seeing Louis undone like this.  
  
He gets up on his feet, Louis’ gaze traveling to Harry, and in a surge of bravery, he backs Louis up against the wall, his hands on Louis’ jaw.  
  
“Wanna kiss you so bad,” he whispers, unable to meet Louis’ eyes. When Louis nearly whines, Harry looks up, and sees him biting his bottom lip.  
  
“Do it.”  
  
“I’m gonna.”  
  
“Okay, then. I’ll be here. Waiting.”  
  
Harry smiles before he leans in so painfully slowly, he can almost hear his heart beating. And when his lips finally brush against Louis’, the only thing he can think of is, _This was worth the wait.  
  
_

* * *

Now that the seal has been broken, Harry can’t seem to keep his hands off of Louis. It’s like no matter where they are, Harry finds any excuse he can to cup Louis’ jaw in his hands, pressing their lips together, tongues meeting in the middle. Louis seems to feel the same.

  
They’re lazily kissing on Louis’ couch late one night, the end credits to a film rolling, laying next to each other side-by-side. Normally, they stick to this, kissing until they’re both breathless, hard, and sporting pink cheeks. But Harry can _feel_ Louis getting harder underneath his thigh, and he suddenly wants nothing more than to touch and taste him.  
  
“Lou,” he whispers into his neck, thrusting his hips into Louis’, eliciting a small whimper from Louis.  
  
“Haz,” Louis answers, sliding his hands into Harry’s hair and gripping hard, drawing a figure eight shape with his hips against Harry’s.  
  
Harry groans and kissing up Louis’ jaw. “Can’t stop thinking about sucking you off.”  
  
Louis stills completely with the exception of his fingers, which dig into Harry’s scalp even harder. “What exactly do you think about?” he asks on an exhale.  
  
Harry squeezes his eyes shut. “I think about how you’d feel in my mouth.”  
  
Louis starts moving his hips again. “What else?”  
  
“Think about the way you’d look when I’m going down on you. Bet you look so good when you come. Want you to come apart from just my mouth.”  
  
He moans, ducking his head down into the crook of Harry’s neck. “Want you to make me come.” Harry can feel his smirk. “If you think you can.”  
  
Harry bites at Louis’ neck and then flips him underneath him, a move he didn’t know he was capable of. “I’m gonna. And you have to be quiet. Your mum and the girls are all asleep right above us.”  
  
“You’re gonna have to give it to me _really_ good if you think I’m not gonna be able to stay quiet.” He looks up at Harry, eyes nearly blazing. “I wank thinking about you sucking me off _all the time_ , and I’m always quiet enough that no one suspects a thing.”  
  
Harry feels his mouth go dry. He rocks his hips down to meet Louis’, and the friction is delicious. But it’s not enough. “You think about me when you get yourself off?” He doesn’t mean for his voice to sound as low as it does. Louis’s eyes grow wide.  
  
“If you make me come within the next 10 minutes, I’ll tell you _exactly_ what I think about when I get myself off,” Louis says with a grin, biting at his bottom lip. Harry’s so fucking hard.  
  
“Okay, I’m gonna do that. Wanna hear what you do to yourself. Wanna taste you so bad.”  
  
Louis groans when Harry sits up on his knees and pulls down Louis’ trousers and pants in one swift motion. His cock is standing up, hard and shiny at the tip. Harry’s hands are shaking, he’s been waiting for this for months. Years, maybe.  
  
He bends down to breathe hot air over Louis’ dick, Louis twitching beneath him, gasping slightly. “You this hard just from the idea of my mouth?”  
  
Louis clears his throat. “Don’t think so highly of yourself. If _anyone_ had been grinding against me for the past half hour, I’d be this hard. It’s not all about you, Styles.”  
  
Harry smirks. “It’s gonna be all about me.”  
  
“We’ll see.”  
  
He’s never done this before, but his cock is throbbing in his pants with how badly he wants to. He grips Louis at the base and in one sinking motion, he takes him most of the way down before he gags. Louis reaches down to grip at Harry’s hair. “Baby, just take a little bit, yeah?” he says, voice already wavering. “Do sound so fucking lovely choking on my cock, though.”  
  
Harry pulls off completely, making Louis groan. “Shut up. And don’t call me ‘baby.’ It’s like you’re mocking me.”  
  
Louis lifts his hips off the couch a bit, mindlessly chasing the feeling of Harry’s mouth again. “Haz, don’t stop. _Please_ ,” he whines. He never begs. Or says please. Harry’s feeling smug, and so, so turned on.  
  
He takes him down again, not as deep this time, and gets a steady rhythm going. Up, down, up, down, swirl of the tongue, jerk of the hand, slide down as far as his throat will allow him to, repeat. He grips the meatiest part of Louis’ hips with his left hand to steady him, his right hand working mercilessly over Louis’ cock.  
  
It doesn’t long before Louis’ moans are coming out much higher pitched and much more frequently. His breathing picks up, his chest heaving, and Harry can tell he’s close. He pulls off, licking the tip, and murmurs, “Knew you would taste good. And knew you would look so fucking hot like this, all worked up for me.” Louis whines. “‘m so hard, Lou. Christ. Wanna watch you come.” He sinks back down, much further this time, keeping his eyes on Louis’ face.  
  
“Harry, I’m gonna,” he manages to stutter out, as if Harry couldn’t tell based on the way Louis’ thighs and stomach were trembling. He works his mouth over him as he feels Louis’ orgasm building, his jaw beginning to ache, but he doesn’t care.  
  
Louis comes with a shout, flooding Harry’s mouth, and Harry can’t believe how unbearably hot Louis is, hips still thrusting lazily into Harry’s mouth even after he’s come down, hands still gripping at Harry’s curls.  
  
Harry sits up and presses his palm against his own cock through his pants. “‘m not sure that constituted as the ‘quiet orgasm’ we had talked about, Lou,” he says, grinning and pleased with his work.  
  
Louis rolls his eyes. “Shut up and come here.”  
  
Harry falls to his side, so fucking worked up that even the slightest touch from Louis’ hand on his waist is enough to have him moaning.  
  
“ _You_ have to be quiet, too, Styles,” Louis reprimands, popping the button open and yanking Harry’s pants down, freeing his cock, fully hard. He gets a hand on Harry, moving slowly, testing out what feels best for Harry, and Harry’s sure he’s already gonna lose it.  
  
He squirms under Louis as he says, “I’ll be quiet. Just tell me what you think about when you get yourself off.”  
  
Louis chuckles. “Knew you wouldn’t forget.” His hand picks up speed, twisting and gliding, and it feels _amazing_. “I always think about your lips on my cock,” he starts off in a low whisper. “Knew it would feel good, but never thought it would _look_ even better. You’re so fucking gorgeous, I can barely stand it.”  
  
Harry pumps his hips into Louis’ hand faster. He should be embarrassed he’s already so close, but with Louis being uncharacteristically brutally honest for once, unashamed and sexy as hell, how can he be blamed?  
  
“I think about you looking up at me the whole time. Love when your attention’s on me.”  
  
Harry chokes out a laugh. “As if I could ever look away half the time.”  
  
Louis smirks, kissing the side of Harry’s neck. “I think about you maybe gettin’ a couple fingers inside me while you’re sucking me down.” Harry groans, and bites the side of Louis’ shoulder through his shirt. “You’d look so good deep throating me, getting me ready to get fucked by you.”  
  
And that’s all it takes to have Harry shooting up onto his own shirt - why didn’t he take it off? - hands shaking, eyes squeezed shut. He keeps thrusting into Louis’ hand until he feels overworked, and eventually slumps down onto the couch, exhausted.  
  
Louis scoots down beside him, hand covered in Harry’s come, and Harry can’t help but laugh. “Grab the tissues behind you, you pig.”  
  
“It’s not even _my_ come!”  
  
“Oh, like _that_ makes it better.”  
  
They clean themselves up and Harry wraps his arms around Louis, legs also locked together. He’s tracing his name along Louis’ spine when he asks, “Would you really let me fuck you?”  
  
Louis laughs. “Took longer than I expected for you to mention that.” Harry can’t see his face, but he can tell he’s blushing. “I mean, I think so. Yeah? I think about it a lot. I think I’d prefer it, being fucked. And I obviously would want it to be with you.”  
  
Harry can’t let himself think about that right now; too much, too hot. “Would _definitely_ fuck you, if you let me.”  
  
He snorts. “Such the gentleman.”  
  
Harry’s heart beats at rapid speed until he’s finally fast asleep, Louis pressed up against him on the tiny, worn couch.

* * *

Harry’s sat at home in his bedroom, waiting for Louis to stop by after footie practice, and he knows Louis is going to be in a foul mood; the sky has just opened up, flooding the streets, and he’s going to be soaked to the core. Harry’s already mentally preparing himself for the wrath that is, “Fuck you, give me your jumper, I’m fucking freezing. No, not that one, _that_ one. Where’s my tea?”

He hears the front door open a bit later, followed by, “Harry? You better have dry clothes for me somewhere. I’m about to die from hypothermia.”  
  
Harry shakes his head and smiles. Called it. “‘m up in my room, take whatever you want,” he yells out.  
  
Louis steps in a few moments later, dripping wet from head to toe, his uniform completely stuck to him. “Fuck Stan. He drove me to practice and then when it started raining I told him to get his arse into gear and bring me here, but _no_. This is the one time he ever decides to be an overachiever and stayed the entire length of practice and wouldn’t give me the keys to the car. So now I’m cranky and moody and fucking wet.” He yanks his jersey up over his head, raindrops dripping down his back and stomach from his hair. “Gimme a jumper. I want the red one.”  
  
Harry shakes his head. “Sorry, what’d you say?”  
  
Louis sneers. “What the fuck? Did you not listen to a single thing I just said?”  
  
Harry swallows. Honestly, he hadn’t been listening. He’d been staring at his fit as fuck boyfriend, whose see through white uniform was essentially painted on to his body, accentuating his every curve and muscle. “No, come here.”  
  
“Leave me alone, I want the red jumper.”  
  
“No. Louis. Come here.”  
  
The tone in his voice shifts and Louis freezes. “What…”  
  
Harry can’t help himself. He gets off the bed and essentially dives at Louis, pushing him up against the wall next to the bedroom door, raindrops still trickling down his face, shoulders, stomach. Harry wants to lick every drop off. “Do you have _any_ idea how hot you look right now?”  
  
Louis’ breath catches in his throat. “What are you going on about, Styles…”  
  
Harry grips Louis’ waist, pressing his fingertips into his sides. “You think you can walk in here, dripping wet, stripping, and expect me _not_ to want to suck you off right here, up against this wall?”  
  
His breathing is heavy now. “Can’t control yourself for one night, H?”  
  
“Not when you look like this, no.”  
  
Harry can tell Louis is trying to play it nonchalant, but his voice cracks when he says, “Have at it, then.”  
  
He dives in, pressing a bruising kiss to Louis’ lips, immediately sneaking his tongue into Louis’ mouth. He’s already panting and Louis isn’t much better off. He can’t stop pushing his hips into Harry’s, his hands wrapped around Harry’s neck, digging into the flesh there, and moaning every time Harry so much as licks at his bottom lip.  
  
Harry drops to his knees, struggling to pull Louis out of his rain soaked shorts, way too eager to get his mouth wrapped around him. He’s nearly half hard when Harry takes him all the way down, immediately working him the way he’s learned Louis likes. He sucks hard but moves slowly, making Louis cant his hips, clearly loving the heat of Harry’s mouth.  
  
“Harry, Haz,” Louis stutters out.  
  
Harry doesn’t pull off. He groans, pulling Louis deeper into his mouth, head of Louis’ cock nudging the back of his throat.  
  
“Harry, _fuck_ , I want you to fuck me.”  
  
He pulls his mouth off completely, gripping Louis by the base, moving his hand slowly. He looks up and meets Louis’ gaze. “I can’t tell if you’re serious.”  
  
Louis looks torn between pushing Harry off all the way and thrusting his hips into the tight circle of Harry’s hand. “‘m serious. Always want you to fuck me but…” He pauses to hunch over slightly when Harry runs his thumb over the slit. “You’re gonna fuck me right now.”  
  
In all of the time Harry has thought about this - and he has spent a _lot_ of time thinking about it - he always imagined he’d heroically carry Louis to the bed, laying him out underneath him, and he’d take his time on him until he was a whimpering mess. He imagined he’d kiss him slowly unless Louis was begging for it, and he’d be so sure of himself, so good pounding into Louis, that Louis would cry, unable to stop himself. Dream Harry is amazing at sex.  
  
What kind of fucking fantasy world.  
  
He now realizes how stupid that is, because Louis’ in front of him, asking to be fucked, and Harry can’t make his legs work. He wants nothing more than to have sex with his boyfriend (what 16-year-old doesn’t?), but suddenly, he’s so nervous that he’s going to be terrible at it. And it must be obvious, because Louis suddenly sinks down to the floor in front of Harry, pants still around his ankles, and places his hands on Harry’s shoulders.  
  
“Are you having a stroke?”  
  
Harry’s cheeks burn up. “No.”  
  
“It’s not me, right?”  
  
“Oh my God, no,” he says, shaking his head furiously.  
  
Louis smirks. “Didn’t think so. Know how bad you wanna fuck me. I mean, who wouldn’t?”  
  
Harry snorts, but agrees with him. “I do wanna fuck you.”  
  
“I know.” He looks Harry directly in the eyes, gaze piercing. “You’re nervous, yeah? I know you want to be all confident, but Harry, there’s nothing you could do that would make me not want you.” He smiles and squeezes Harry’s shoulders. “Friendly reminder that I’ve never done this before either, so I’m equally as inexperienced. And chances are, this is really gonna suck. We’ll both be to blame.”  
  
Harry laughs at that. “I don’t want it to be bad, though. I wanna make it good for you. I want everything to be good for you.”  
  
Louis’ expression softens at that. “Love, you aren’t gonna have much stamina and it’s probably gonna hurt me because, fuck, you’re really big.”  
  
“I’m torn between being offended and being turned on.”  
  
Louis smirks. “Just fuck me, yeah? You’re a quick study. First time you sucked me off I nearly blacked out.”  
  
Harry knows he’s probably lying, but he feels his cock hardening up again, anyway. “Yeah?”  
  
Louis licks his lips. “Mhmm. And you’ve only gotten better since. Quickest way to get me off, thinking about your lips around my cock.”  
  
He reaches out and grabs Louis’ cock, stroking it back to full hardness. “It’s one of my favourite things, you know. Getting you off using just my mouth.”  
  
Louis groans and leans back, his head thudding against the door behind him. “You’re good at it,” he says, breath hitching on an upstroke. He twists his wrist faster, and Louis whines. “Harry, I wasn’t kidding, I want you to fuck me.”  
  
Harry can finally find the strength to stand up, pulling Louis up by the hips with him. “I’m gonna fuck you. Jesus, Lou. Been waiting for way too long,” he says, walking backward, unable to keep his eyes off Louis’ face. Most of his nerves from before are gone, especially when Louis starts biting at his lip in the way he does when he’s nervous, too. He feels better that he's not alone in this, that he has Louis.  
  
The back of his knees hit the bed behind him, and he pulls Louis down for a kiss, laughing into it when he realizes Louis’ pants are still around his feet. Louis laughs, too, not bothering to ask what’s so funny, and mumbles into Harry’s mouth, “Shut up, Styles.” And then Louis’ hand is on his cock, silencing him instantly.  
  
Louis gets him off slowly, Harry panting and unable to think about anything else other than the tight strokes of Louis’ hand. By the time he comes, his whole body is tightly wound with how badly he wants to come again, but this time, deep inside of Louis.  
  
He pushes Louis down on his back, climbing over him to reach for a condom and lube in his nightstand, and Louis smirks.  
  
“Use those often?”  
  
Harry smiles, blushing. “Nah, just been waiting, like, three years for my boyfriend to let me put my cock in him.”  
  
“Been thinking about it for three years?” Louis asks, stroking himself steadily, looking up at Harry.  
  
Harry gulps. “Probably longer.”  
  
“Are you telling me you were 12 and imagined fucking me?”  
  
“Christ, Louis, I don’t know, just let me finger you!”  
  
Louis bites back a laugh and he spreads his legs wider. “Pervert.”  
  
Harry tries to let out a sigh of frustration, but he laughs instead. He knows Louis is teasing to relax him. It’s working. “I hate you and you’re impossible,” he says, coating his fingers in lube. What he really means is _I’m crazy about you_.  
  
When he slides his pointer finger into Louis, he watches Louis’ face carefully. He squeezes his eyes shut, but then visibly relaxes, letting out a shaky breath. “Keep going, H.”  
  
Harry furrows his brows, concentrating, loving the way Louis can’t seem to figure out what to do with his hands. He slowly drives in a second finger, twisting them in and out, and Louis moans deep in his throat.  
  
“Feels good,” he murmurs, pushing his hips down to meet Harry’s fingers.  
  
Harry’s mouth is completely dry. “Want another finger?”  
  
“Gimme a minute, yeah,” he says, eyes closing shut again.  
  
He can’t stop watching the way his fingers are sliding in and out of Louis so easily, and he has to take a deep breath. He's already completely hard again. “Lou, you look so good, you have no idea.”  
  
Louis whines. “Another finger.”  
  
Harry obliges, working in a third, and when he crooks his fingers when they’re fully inside, Louis’ legs jerk involuntarily, jaw slack, cock blurting out precome from where it’s standing straight up.  
  
“Fuck, Harry, right there,” Louis chokes out, gripping the sheets beneath him.  
  
Harry’s encouraged, working his fingers repeatedly over the same spot inside of Louis, mesmerized by Louis’ reaction. He feels like his heart could burst by the time Louis finally says, “Okay, okay, fuck me, yeah?”  
  
Harry pulls his fingers out and straddles himself over Louis, dipping down to kiss him. Louis opens his mouth immediately, tongue sliding into Harry’s mouth, hands gripping at his curls. Harry pulls away to suck a bruise into Louis’ neck, and Louis starts squirming underneath him.  
  
“Please, Harry, want you so bad, I’ll give you anything, whatever you want, just…”  
  
Harry can’t get the condom on fast enough, pouring way too much lube into his hand, stroking his cock harshly. “Baby, I’ll give it all to you.” He hovers over Louis, gripping his cock and starts to push into Louis from above him. He’s so bloody tight, and Harry has to resist the urge to thrust all the way in immediately.  
  
Below him, Louis is biting at his bottom lip again, squeezing Harry’s sides, breath coming in short and quickly. Harry can tell he’s uncomfortable by the way he’s barely moving, the way his gaze won’t meet Harry’s.  
  
“Baby, are you okay?”  
  
Louis lets out a whimper. “You’re big.”  
  
Harry snorts. “Do you want me to stop?”  
  
Louis doesn’t say anything, so Harry starts to pull out. “No, no, don’t do that,” Louis demands. “I just need a second, yeah?”  
  
He tries to still, arms wracked with tremors, but nods. “Okay.”  
  
Louis’ breathing eventually steadies out and he starts clenching around Harry. Harry’s eyes nearly roll to the back of his head with how good it feels. Louis kicks at his back and smirks, and Harry takes that as his cue to start moving.  
  
If the first thrust is any indication of how amazing this will feel, Harry is ill prepared. He knows he isn’t going to last long - damn Louis for being right about his 16-year-old stamina - but he doesn’t want it to be over before it gets good for Louis, too.  
  
He figures he’s doing okay when he changes the angle of his thrusts and Louis shrieks. “Harry, there, please, _there_ ,” he pleads.  
  
Harry goes double time, trying to hit that spot over and over, a sheen of sweat covering his chest and back, making it impossible for Louis to hold on. Louis whimpers, throwing his head back, and Harry has to lean down to lick a stripe over the blooming red spot from his mouth earlier. The noise Louis makes is absolutely pornographic, and that’s just about _it_ for Harry, his stomach contracting before he’s anywhere near ready.  
  
“Lou, I’m so close,” he breathes out through clenched teeth.  
  
Louis wraps his legs around Harry’s waist, clenching down tightly around Harry’s cock, and whispers in his ear, “C’mon Hazza, come.”  
  
Harry tries to hold back, wants Louis to get there too, but it’s obvious he’s not anywhere near as close as Harry. He lets go after four more thrusts, groaning loudly into Louis’ chest, shaking.  
  
Louis runs his hands up and down Harry’s back, kissing his forehead, and Harry groans again. “ _Louis_ ,” he mumbles, embarrassed.  
  
“Mmm, what?”  
  
“That was too fast. You were right.”  
  
Louis barks out a laugh. “Harry, if we’re being honest, it was _much_ better than I expected. You lasted, like, a whole two minutes. That’s impressive.”  
  
“Ugh, that’s not helping.” He can feel Louis’ smile against his skin as he slides out but then Louis winces. “Sorry, baby,” he apologizes.  
  
“It’s okay.”  
  
But it’s not okay. Louis is still fully hard, face flushed, and he’s such a picture of beauty, Harry can hardly take it. In one fluid motion, he dips down to push two fingers back inside of Louis, sucking his cock down, the head of it brushing the back of Harry’s throat, and Louis whines high in his throat.  
  
“Harry, Hazza,” he groans, hands pulling at Harry’s tight curls, and Harry can tell he’s already going to come. Harry sucks harder, fingers crooking to rub against Louis’ prostate, and he comes, shooting down Harry’s throat moments later, arching off the mattress and body trembling.  
  
Harry makes his way back up the bed and lets Louis curl his body into Harry’s, sweat cooling. Harry is so happy, so content, is obsessed with his boy.

 

When they have sex again a few hours later, Harry lasts _two and a half_ minutes.  
  
Progress.

* * *

A few months later, Harry’s sat on the couch, watching a film, bag of pretzels between his legs when Louis calls him. His voice is frantic and there’s an unusual amount of shrieking in the background.

“Harry? I need you,” Louis says, breathless.  
  
Harry sits up. “Lou? What’s wrong.”  
  
“I’m watching the girls and normally I have no problem with it but it’s been all day and Mum won’t be home until much later and Daisy started throwing up and I can’t _do_ throw up and Phoebe’s screaming and Fizzy and Lottie won’t stop asking to go to their friends’ houses and _Harry_. I can’t do it, I can’t--”  
  
“Lou, I’m leaving now. Deep breaths.”  
  
“ _Hurry_.”  
  
He nearly runs out the door.

 

  
By the time he walks into the Tomlinson house, Louis has already cleaned up Daisy and Phoebe has stopped screaming, but the house is still a disaster. Harry bribes Fizzy and Lottie with the option of going to their friends’ houses if they clean the kitchen, which they willingly agree to, and he entertains the twins while Louis rummages through the cabinet for any type of medicine to bring down Daisy’s now very evident fever.  
  
It doesn’t take long to calm the chaos once Fizzy and Lottie are out the door. Harry helps Louis put the twins to bed, checking on Daisy’s fever every so often, and once half ten rolls around, he figures they’re both down for the night. He flops down on the couch next to Louis and laces their fingers together.  
  
“You okay?”  
  
Louis squeezes Harry’s hand and drops his head to his shoulder. Harry pulls him in close. “I don’t know what happened. I never have any trouble watching them, ever. They’re my sisters, yeah? I don’t know. I just got really overwhelmed and panicked and the first person I thought of was you.” He traces along Harry’s knuckles. “Thank you.”  
  
He pulls Louis’ hand up to his lips and kisses the back of his hand. “You do a good job with them. They love you so much.”  
  
Louis squishes in closer, draping his legs across Harry’s lap. They sit like that in silence for a bit, Louis with his head on Harry’s chest. Harry imagines Louis can feel how wildly his heart is beating.  
  
Eventually, he leans down to kiss Louis, softly and slowly, and Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s neck, using that as leverage to pull himself up, sitting astride Harry’s hips.  
  
The kiss never gains momentum, though. It remains sweet, and Harry gently runs his hands up and down Louis’ spine. Louis sighs into Harry’s mouth, tongue running along Harry’s lips, and he can’t get enough of how Louis feels beneath his hands.  
  
Eventually, they pull back, and Harry rubs his thumb along Louis’ puffy bottom lip. He’s completely disheveled, a product of a stressful night. His glasses lenses are smudged, his hair is starting to become greasy, his shirt is wrinkled, and the bags under his eyes are deep and purple.  
  
Harry’s breath catches in his throat. His boy is so beautiful.  
  
He leans in and presses his forehead against Louis’s, eyes going crossed when he tries to meet Louis’ gaze. His lips quirk upward when he says, “You could probably use a shower, Lou.”  
  
Louis leans back and rolls his eyes. “You’re a prick. We were having such a nice moment and you had to ruin it with your honesty. I _know_ I look like shit.”  
  
Harry laughs, and leans forward again. “You’re still breathtaking.”  
  
Louis chews on his bottom lip and scrunches up his nose. “If you say so.” He flicks Harry on the forehead and climbs off his lap. “‘m gonna go change. Don’t leave.”  
  
He smiles. “I’ll be right here.”  
  
Harry hasn’t told Louis he loves him yet. Louis has to know, though, Harry figures. He feels like it oozes out with every look, touch, thought… He’s buzzing with how much he loves his boy, and he has to actively stop himself from saying it whenever Louis so much as glances in his general direction. It’s what he’s done for years.  
  
But when Louis reappears a few minute later, face washed and sporting a clean pair of pyjamas, Harry absolutely cannot hold it in any longer. And why should he have to?  
  
Louis sits back down besides Harry, throwing a blanket over their laps, and he reaches for the remote to the telly. “What do you wanna watch? I’m feeling generous. You can pick tonight.”  
  
Harry looks at Louis, almost vibrating out of his seat. “Lou, I’m in love with you.”  
  
Louis’ eyes go wide as he turns to meet Harry’s stare. “Because I’m letting you pick the film?”  
  
Harry knows it’s a cop out, and he would be nervous if this was anyone other than Louis. But it _is_ Louis. And he knows Louis loves him as much as he loves Louis.  
  
Almost as much, anyway.  
  
“You have to know how crazy I am about you. You’re everything. And I’m tired of not telling you. I just… I love you so much. You know that, right?”  
  
Louis doesn’t move for a moment, frozen, but eventually drops the remote onto the couch and pushes Harry down, slipping into the tiny space next to him. He drags his fingers across Harry’s jaw before he leans up to capture Harry’s lips in a deep kiss, and Harry can barely function with how good it feels, with how Louis tastes.  
  
Their mouths move slowly together for a long time, long enough for Harry to be completely hard in his own joggers. He pushes his hips into Louis’, and Louis whines in the back of his throat.  
  
He pulls away, then, and burrows his face into Harry’s neck. Harry almost misses it when Louis murmurs, “I know.”  
  
Harry swallows. “Good.”  
  
Louis kisses sloppily at Harry’s neck, and Harry’s getting restless, needs to feel Louis’ mouth and hands elsewhere. But then Louis sits up and puts his hands on Harry’s waist. The look on his face is so serious, so genuine, that Harry has to close his eyes, opening them when he hears Louis’s voice from above him.  
  
“I love you so fucking much, I can hardly think straight half the time,” Louis whispers, blue eyes sparkling, gaze never wavering.  
  
Harry can’t be helped when he yanks Louis back down, kissing him with everything he has in him.

* * *

Harry hates that his family doesn’t know he’s been dating Louis for nearly two years. He knows the conversation might be a bit uncomfortable, (“You know Louis, right? The one that’s been sleeping over in my bed for the past 10 years? Well, we’ve been fucking for two of those years, sorry, it must have slipped my mind to tell you.”) but ultimately decides he wants to do this as soon as possible, even though Louis is extremely hesitant. He reasons with Louis, eventually persuading him to have the same conversation with his family, Harry’s argument being that he’s tired of feeling this guilty whenever Louis spends time around his family, sneaking about. The feeling only gets worse over time, and he’s had it. Louis reluctantly agrees.

He sits down with Gemma on a weekend she’s home from school, figuring she’ll be the easier option. He views it as a practice round, before he gets to the grand finale of telling his parents.  
  
“Okay. Okay, Gemma, I have to tell you something.”  
  
Harry’s sat on her bedroom floor, leaning against her bed. She’s shuffling homework at her desk. “Can it be quick? I have a ton of studying to do.”  
  
“It’ll be quick if you don’t make a big deal about it.”  
  
That grabs her curiosity. “Are you okay?”  
  
“Yeah. Just. I’m dating Louis.” He hadn’t planned on saying it so bluntly, but there it is.  
  
Gemma’s expression doesn’t change. “How is that news to me?”  
  
Harry’s confused. “How is that _not_ news to you?”  
  
“Haven’t you been dating since, like, year six?”  
  
Harry scoffs. “We have not been! It’s only been two years!”  
  
She rolls her eyes. “Are you trying to tell me there’s a difference between the way you and Louis have acted in the past two years versus the past ten?”  
  
“Yes! A big difference!”  
  
Gemma pretends to think for a moment. “Whatever you say, Harry.”  
  
Harry leaves her bedroom completely dumbfounded. So much for Gemma being the easier person to tell.

 

He tries again the next day with his Mum and Robin.  
  
No time to hem and haw. “Louis and I have been dating for two years.”  
  
Anne smiles. Robin raises an eyebrow. “Been waiting long enough for you to finally come out and tell us,” he says.  
  
Harry throws his hands in the air. “Okay, so _everyone_ knew for _years_ and _no one_ thought it would be a good idea to give me a heads up? So I didn’t feel so fucking nervous?”  
  
“Harry, language,” Anne scolds. “And no, love, that wasn’t our thought process. We just wanted you to be ready to tell us. We didn’t want to say anything before you were comfortable.”  
  
Harry looks down at his lap. It makes sense, and it’s so very _Anne_ of her, that he can’t find it in him to be angry.  
  
“We love Louis. We’ve watched him grow up almost as long as we’ve been watching you,” Anne murmurs. “He’s a lovely boy. He’s family.”  
  
Harry nods. “He feels the same way about us.”  
  
“No secrets, okay, H?”  
  
“Okay.” He pauses. “Thank you.”  
  
“What for?”  
  
“Just… Thank you.”

 

They leave it at that.

 

  
Louis’ talk with his own family didn’t go as well. Jay had, of course, known all along, but remained quiet for the same reasons Anne had. It was his sisters, rather, that gave him a hard time, Lottie specifically.  
  
Louis is pacing across Harry’s bedroom, occasionally kicking a pair of socks or a jumper out of the way, cursing.  
  
“I’ve never seen Lottie so mad, you know?” he says incredulously. “She kept saying how I’m a liar and a shit brother. How am I a liar? Fuck, I knew I shouldn't have told anyone.”  
  
Harry takes his time carefully choosing his next words. “I think I can understand where Lottie is coming from,” he says slowly.  
  
Louis spins around, expression raging. “What?”  
  
“Just hear me out, Lou. I get her thinking because _I_ felt like a liar for the past two years, yeah? We ultimately kept it a secret, love, and even though it feels good to get out in the open for us, it might not appear that way to your 10-year-old sister. She probably feels betrayed. I would say that’s a normal reaction to have.”  
  
Louis doesn’t answer.  
  
Harry’s brows furrow. “And now that I’m thinking about it, I’m not sure why we decided on keeping it a secret for so long. You always shot me down when I said I wanted to talk about it.”  
  
Louis doesn’t say anything to that, either.  
  
“Lou? Did you not want your family to know you’re gay?”  
  
“Christ, Harry, you know they don’t give a fuck about that.”  
  
Harry holds up his hands as a truce. “You don’t have to get so defensive. I’m just trying to figure out why you asked me to put it off for so long. It didn’t seem like a big deal until now.”  
  
“It’s still not a big fucking deal.”  
  
Harry has to hold in a laugh. “I beg to differ.”  
  
Louis sighs in the most exaggerated way possible. “Okay, fine. It’s because I knew Lottie would react this way, and I didn’t want to hurt her.”  
  
“That’s nice, Lou, but I _know_ that’s a cop out.”  
  
“Harry, enough, I don’t want to talk about it.”  
  
Harry is extremely frustrated, but he knows when Louis is in a mood like this, pushing is going to get him absolutely nowhere. He has to play by Louis’ rules in order to win.  
  
“Okay. Conversation dropped.”  
  
Louis crosses his arms over his chest and stares at Harry, eyes squinted, and Harry doesn’t really know what to do now. “Do you, um, wanna watch a film?”  
Louis huffs out a breath. “No.”  
  
Harry shifts on his bed, reaching for his laptop at the end of it, and says, “Okay.”  
  
He stands there in the center of Harry’s bedroom for about six more seconds before he walks to the edge of the bed, nudging Harry. “Move.” Harry tries not to smile.  
  
He makes room for Louis on the bed as he scrolls through the list of available films on Netflix and puts his thumb on Louis’ thigh, drawing circles slowly. “Which do you wanna watch, baby?”  
  
“I don’t care.”  
  
“Okay.” He clicks on the comedy section and Louis sighs.  
  
“Well, I care if you plan on picking a _shitty_ film.” He reaches for the laptop and jumps to the drama section, skimming through each summary much too quickly to be able to read anything. After a few minutes, he ends up back in comedies, and clicks on _Hot Rod_.  
  
Harry pulls Louis in close, still drawing shapes on his thigh, and he kisses behind his ear. Louis hits the spacebar on the laptop rather harshly, pausing the movie.  
  
“I didn’t wanna tell any of our family members that we’re together because I’m constantly fucking terrified that one day, all of this is going to be over. And the idea of having to tell people that we aren’t together anymore makes me sick.” He covers Harry’s hand on his thigh with his own. “In case I haven’t made it abundantly clear, I like you quite a bit, okay?”  
  
Harry was certainly _not_ expecting that. It’s very rare Louis ever opens up first, if at all, so Harry treads lightly. “Louis, love, you were afraid to tell people we were together in the event of a potential breakup in the distant future that neither of us can foresee?”  
  
Louis rolls over. “When you say it like that, you make me sound like such a dickhead.”  
  
“No, Lou, I just want you to hear how silly that sounds. Look at me.” He pulls Louis’ face by his finger under his chin, forcing eye contact. “Have I ever given you a reason to doubt me? Or us?”  
  
“No, but--”  
  
“I can't predict the future, Louis. I don't know what's going to happen with us. But for as long as I can remember, I have been so in love with you, I can't see straight.” He dips down to kiss him swiftly on the lips. “Don’t take out your fears on Lottie.”  
  
Louis snorts. “You could have ended on the ‘I love you’ part.”  
  
“I love you. I love you so bloody much, it hurts sometimes.”  
  
“Shut _up_.”  
  
Harry smirks and hits the spacebar to resume the movie. Louis grips his hand immediately after, squeezing tightly. “I love you, too.”


	2. Part II: The Early Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be  
> whatever you want me to be.  
> Does that sound awful?
> 
> I will be your spring,  
> if you will be my summer.
> 
> I will be your fall,  
> if you will be my winter.
> 
> We will cycle  
> and cycle  
> until forever breaks the seconds  
> and the seconds break the hours.
> 
> Every moment we spend  
> is every moment we have been  
> looking for,  
> for so long.
> 
> \-- RM Drake

_**September** _  
_**Age 21** _

Harry is in his third year of university the next time he has to interview for _The Up Series_. Eloise, Augustus, and the rest of the crew meet up with Harry during his first month back to school. They set up in his tiny cramped flat, which he shares with his two friends, Ellis and James, whom he met the year prior. When he’d told them about the series, they both thought it was incredible.  
  
“That’s absolutely sick, mate!” James had exclaimed.  
  
Harry smiled. “I suppose so. It’s just something that’s always been there, since I was seven. I haven’t really thought much about the end result.”  
  
“It’ll be like a time capsule,” Ellis said.  
  
“Hmm. I guess you’re right.”  
  
“Can we watch you film?” James asked.  
  
“If you’d like to.”

 

So here they are, Harry sat on a chair under the lights, Ellis and James stood to the side with the rest of the crew, excitedly awaiting for the process to begin. Harry actually remembers the questions this time around, so he nerves aren’t out of control.  
  
“Hello again, I’m Harry Styles, I’m 21 years old, and I am in my third year at university. I’m studying English and law.”  
  
Augustus smiles. “Good to see you again, Harry. You’re looking well.”  
  
“Thanks. It must be the copious amount of alcohol and the bare minimum of sleep per night.”  
  
“Still quite the smart arse as always, I see.”  
  
He winks. “Pretty much.”  
  
“Okay, Harry. What are your goals for right now?”  
  
“Easy. To not flunk out of uni. Imagine the look on my mum’s face.”  
  
Eloise laughs in the background. “Anne would not be thrilled, yeah?”  
  
“Absolutely not.”  
  
Augustus continues. “Goals for the future, Harry?”  
  
Harry smiles. “To keep Ellis and James around in my life forever. They’re good lads.” James aww’s loudly behind Augustus, and Ellis laughs.  
  
“Can you explain to the viewers who Ellis and James are?”  
  
“Oh. Duh, sorry. Those two knobheads are my flatmates. They, um…” Harry trails off, thinking of how much he wants to reveal. “I had a tough year last year with some personal stuff, and James was in one of my literature classes. He helped me pick me up, I guess you could say. And he’s been friends with Ellis for years, so they were a package deal.” He smiles. “We all just get on really well. I’m very lucky to have found them.”  
  
“We love you, too, you fucking sap,” Ellis yells.  
  
“Hush! You can’t say ‘fuck’ on the telly, you twat!”  
  
“ _You_ just did, too!”  
  
Augustus claps his hands together. “The lot of you need to shut up.” Harry laughs. “Harry, what was going on last year that you needed support with?”  
  
The mood in the room instantly shifts from light to a bit stifling, or at least, Harry thinks so, and he pauses. “Just… Had a bit of a falling out with a friend from home and it wasn’t the easiest thing to cope with.”  
  
Augustus nods, Eloise looks sympathetic. James and Ellis look confused.  
  
“Do you care to elaborate?”  
  
Harry doesn’t realize his fists are clenched until he looks down. When he releases, the muscles in his hand twitch. “I haven’t talked about it with anyone from uni before. Just Niall and Liam, my two mates from back home.”  
  
“We remember them,” Augustus says. “Louis was close to them, too, yeah?”  
  
At the mention of Louis’ name, Harry freezes and goes silent.  
  
Eloise leans over Augustus’ shoulder. “And based on that, I think we can safely assume Louis is out of the picture.”  
  
Harry lets his head drop, chin touching his chest. “Yeah.”  
  
It’s quiet in the room until James mumbles, “Who’s Louis?”  
  
Harry lifts his head and answers James through the camera. “Louis was my best friend since year two of school, and we were really close up until the beginning of last year, when we kinda…” He picks at his fingernail and sighs. “Faded.”  
  
“If I remember correctly,” Augustus begins, “you and Louis were a bit gone for each other.”  
  
Harry blushes. “A bit.”  
  
“Last time we interviewed Lou, he wouldn’t shut up about you.”  
  
He feels like he can’t breathe, eyes darting between Augustus, Eloise, and the camera. “Do I want to know what he said?”  
  
Augustus smiles. “Just his usual Louis banter, going on about your curls and goofy laugh and how no one else compares to you.”  
  
Harry’s breath catches in his throat. He looks directly at the camera. Might as well be honest. By the time this airs, he’ll be old - or dead - and won’t care anymore. Hopefully. “Louis Tomlinson and I dated from the time we were 15 until we were 20. We split at the beginning of the last school year. The distance, amongst other things I guess, became too hard and we couldn’t make it work anymore.” He takes a minute to breathe. James and Ellis are the quietest Harry has ever seen them. “I just really loved him, you know?” Augustus doesn’t have to ask Harry the next interview question for him to answer. “What I’m most afraid of is that Louis and I will never find our way back to each other again. I think that’s the hope I’m holding onto right now, and it’s what’s keeping me from falling apart entirely. I fear that everything I had with Louis is just… _done_. And I’m not ready for that.”  
  
Augustus fidgets in his chair where he’s sat next to the camera. “Last question, Harry.” His smile is fake when he mumbles, “What does love mean to you?”  
  
Harry gives the camera a brief smile. “The fact that I’m preaching about a boy whom I haven’t seen or spoken to in a year after he broke my heart should be explanation enough.”

 

After the crew is packed up and the flat returns to its normal state, Eloise lingers, smiling when Harry sits down next to her on the couch.  
  
“We interviewed Louis a few weeks ago,” she says, hands clasped around Harry’s.  
  
His brows furrow. “Is he doing okay?”  
  
“He’s…” she trails off. “He’s hanging in there.” Harry hates how relieved he feels because of that. “He probably wouldn’t mind if you called him.”  
  
“I’m not sure he’d want me to do that.”  
  
Eloise squeezes his hand. “It’s up to you, love. But I don’t think he’d be opposed to chatting with you. Whether that be to mend things or to get some closure… It could be good for you both, yeah?”  
  
Harry purses his lips together. “I’ll think about it. Thank you, Eloise.”  
  
She leans in for a hug. “Of course, dear.”

* * *

The night before Harry is set to move back into school for his second year, he’s watching Louis’ head bob up and down between his legs in the darkness of his bedroom. He knows he sounds strangled when he lets out a moan, trying to be as quiet as possible, aware of Gemma in the room over, and Louis has laughter in his eyes when he pulls off all the way.  
  
“You’re doing a shit job at staying quiet, Haz,” he mumbles, and takes Harry all the way back down again.  
  
“How am I supposed to be quiet when you’re basically sucking me to dea-- oh my _God_ , Louis, Christ, your mouth is unreal,” he stutters out, forcing himself not to thrust upward. He just barely catches Louis reach down to touch himself through his shorts, his shoulderblades rolling, his back arching with every move, and Harry’s mouth nearly waters. Louis keeps working Harry’s cock, mouth hot and tongue relentless, and Harry can’t help himself from dragging his thumb across Louis’ bottom lip, feeling his cock slide in and out of Louis’ mouth. “Always so good to me, baby,” Harry groans. “Can’t believe how good you are at this.”  
  
Louis pulls up abruptly. “You wanna fuck me?”  
  
Harry props himself up on his elbows. “Is that a serious question?”  
  
Louis rolls his eyes, but when he climbs up on the bed, Harry can see how affected he is, just from sucking him off. His cheeks are flushed, his hair is matted to his forehead, and his lips are swollen and shiny. Harry can’t be blamed when he immediately pushes Louis down on the bed underneath him, kissing him until Louis starts to whimper, going completely pliant under Harry’s touch.  
  
“Gonna open you up, yeah?” Harry murmurs, reaching for the lube in his bedside table.  
  
“Get a move on,” Louis gripes, yanking his shirt up over his head, settling himself down on Harry’s pillows, palming himself through his shorts.  
  
“You’re really gonna make me take off your pants? You can’t even do that on your own? I already have lube all over my fingers.”  
  
Louis shrugs. “‘t’s what I got you for, to take care of me. Take my pants off. Don’t care about the lube.”  
  
Harry drops a lube covered hand onto the mattress on the side of Louis’ head and drapes himself over Louis’ body, sliding their mouths together, dragging his lube-free hand across Louis’ chest. He loves how Louis feels under his hands, warm and hot to touch. He pulls away. “Will always take care of you.”  
  
Louis nods, his expression too soft when he says, “Then get your fingers in me before I find someone else who will.”  
  
Harry knows he shouldn’t always give in so easily. Louis bosses him around about 96% of the time, and usually, he’s pretty bratty about it. But Harry knows that he, himself, is really in charge, and ultimately, Louis would do whatever Harry asked of him if it really came down to it. Add the fact that Louis would only ever let Harry take charge - no one else - and it’s enough for him to nearly lose his mind whenever he thinks about it. “‘kay, baby, I’ll give you my fingers.”  
  
He starts off slowly, slipping one finger in first, twisting it the way he’s learned Louis likes it over the past three years. He slides in a second finger the exact moment Louis starts silently squirming for another, and by the time he’s three fingers deep, stretching him wide and brushing against his prostate, Louis is mouthing at Harry’s shoulder sloppily, borderline incoherent.  
  
“Can you get on your hands and knees for me, baby?”  
  
Louis’ too far gone to play along like he doesn’t want to do that. He complies instantly, pushing himself up off the mattress and unabashedly gets on his knees, arse in the air, face in the crook of his own elbow. Harry isn’t touching him yet, but he’s already rocking back and forth.  
  
Harry grips Louis’ arse cheeks, squeezing roughly, spreading them apart. “Can’t believe how hot you are… Can’t believe I get to see you like this. Do you have _any_ idea how obscene you look? Fuck…” He has to clench his jaw as he begins to push in, relishing in how good Louis feels. “Always take me so well, baby, always look so _fucking_ good.”  
  
Louis moans as he pushes back, and Harry loves when he gets like this, unable to respond, can only think about coming. “S’ good,” he manages to whimper out.  
  
Harry grabs Louis by the hips and pulls him back onto his cock, watching it slide in and out of Louis, and he hates that he can already feel that familiar heat coiling in the pit of his stomach. He pounds into Louis relentlessly, wanting Louis to get there first, and he leans down to kiss up and down Louis’ spine. “Love fucking you, Lou.” Louis lets out a pained moan, reaching down between his legs to wrap his fist around his own cock. “And I fucking love you. You know that, right?” Louis starts shaking and Harry can feel Louis’ orgasm hit before he can see it. He clenches down around Harry so tightly that he can barely keep up his thrusts. And with that, he comes too. He collapses next to Louis and places his hands on Louis’ chest, feeling how quickly his heart is beating.  
  
Louis is still trembling, shaking so badly his teeth are chattering, when he takes Harry’s hands in his own and whispers, “Please don't ever leave me.” He always gets a little clingy after sex, but his plea is beyond that. His voice is so raw that it makes Harry choke.  
  
“No. Never,” Harry murmurs, twisting Louis’ body so they’re pressed up against each other with no room in between. “Think I waited my whole life for you, Lou. How could I ever leave you?”  
  
Louis bites at his own bottom lip. “Love you.”  
  
He kisses Louis’ jaw. “I love you, too.”

 

It’s too late to be awake, or maybe too early, depending on how it’s looked at, and Harry still has his arms wrapped around Louis. He’s completely unmoving, something that rarely happens, and Harry’s chest hurts with how much he loves his boy.  
  
Harry slowly rubs his hand up and down Louis’ naked back. “I’m not ready to leave you again tomorrow,” he admits.  
  
Louis hums. “Gonna miss this bum?”  
  
Harry smiles. “Gonna miss your everything.” He kisses the top of his head. Louis shuffles in closer. “I know this part sucks, yeah? I hate leaving each other for school, but when we come back together, fuck, it feels so good when I finally get to see your face again.”  
  
Louis breathes in sharply. “Harry, do you ever have doubts about us?”  
  
He freezes. “No… What are you doing…”  
  
“Don’t freak out,” he says, leaning up to make eye contact with Harry. “‘m just asking if you ever think what it would be like if we weren’t together.” He backtracks when he sees Harry’s eyes grow wide. “No, not like that. Sorry, I think I’m doing a shit job of explaining this.”  
  
“Yeah, I’d say so.”  
  
Louis frowns. “I mean, like… Harry, you know I’m in love with you. I don’t know if I tell you enough, but I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything.”  
Harry nods, his heartbeat quickening. “I feel the same way.”  
  
“I know. That’s not the part I’m doubting. I’m just afraid that because we’ve been together for so long, that you’ll find someone or something better. Something new and exciting.” His bottom lip is quivering.  
  
“What would ever give you that idea, Louis? What happened?” Harry’s panicking.  
  
Louis swallows. “Nothing happened, really. Our first year apart was fine and we didn’t have any issues, yeah? I just… I don’t want you to feel like I’m holding you back from anything…”  
  
Harry’s hands are shaky when he says, “Lou? Do _you_ feel like I’m holding you back from something?”  
  
“No. I never think that. I’m just terribly afraid that I’m gonna do something to fuck this up, Harry. I’m crazy about you and…” His eyes start to water and Harry hates it.  
  
“Louis. There is nothing you could do that would make me stop loving you. We got through our first year of university together, apart. And if it’s possible, I think I love you even more now.” He stops to look directly at Louis, the blue of his irises bold. “If this isn’t something you want anymore, tell me. But please don’t let insecurities about problems that don’t exist get in the way of us.”  
  
Louis nods. “‘m being stupid. You’re always so fucking patient with me. Jesus.”  
  
“You’re not stupid.” He pauses to kiss him. “Just trust me, and we’ll be together in the end. Okay?”  
  
Louis’ voice is small when he murmurs back, “Okay.”  
  
They finally fall asleep after that, and Harry tosses and turns all night.

 

It’s less than a month later - a month of very limited contact on Louis’ part and a steady buildup of nerves on Harry’s - that Harry gets the phone call. Louis is crying on the other end before Harry can even say, “Hi, baby,” and that’s when he knows it’s over. He wants to say he knew it was coming, that he knew his boy well enough to know something was wrong, but it hits him like a truck, and he doesn’t eat for a week.

* * *

Now, Harry tries not to think about Louis at all. It’s been over a year now, and he was slowly getting to the point of not looking back. _The Up Series_ set him back significantly, and now that James and Ellis know, he feels completely exposed, even though they haven’t asked him about it since the interview.

The weekend before winter holidays, Harry gets absolutely pissed. He’s so drunk, he can’t stand up without swaying, and his eyelids feel heavy when he tries to blink.  
  
There are about 15 people milling around his flat, and Harry can’t focus on a single one of them. Ellis steadies Harry in the kitchen, grasping his elbow.  
“Mate, are you okay?”  
  
Harry hiccups. “‘m fine.”  
  
Ellis squeezes Harry and drops his hand. “Known you for a while now and usually you’re pretty good about holding your liquor. Might wanna slow down, yeah?”  
  
“Can’t slow down. When I slow down, I have time to think. I don’t wanna think anymore, El. ‘m just very tired.”  
  
Ellis nods. “I understand. I might be able to understand more if you told me a little bit about what’s been going on with you in the past year or so?”  
  
“I don’t know if I wanna talk about it,” Harry slurs, eyes closing briefly.  
  
“That’s okay, mate. Whenever you’re ready.”

 

Harry decides he’s ready - or ready _enough_ \- the next morning, incredibly hungover, mind cloudy, and somehow able to remember his conversation from the night before with Ellis in the kitchen.  
  
He slides into Ellis’ bed with two cups of tea. “Where’s James at?”  
  
Ellis, still laying on his stomach, mumbles into his pillow, “I dunno. I think he’s staying at Sadie’s.”  
  
“Again?”  
  
“Mhmm.”  
  
“He seems to like her. She’s a sweet girl.”  
  
“She is.”  
  
Harry doesn’t say anything for a while after that. He sips slowly at his cup of tea, trying to think of where to begin. Eventually, Ellis sits up and grabs for the tea Harry set on his bedside table.  
  
“Thanks, H.”  
  
“Course.”  
  
Ellis is silent, pulling the duvet further up the bed. He sighs. “You don’t have to talk about it, Haz. I’m not trying to pry. I just think it’ll help me know you better. Your mind is a weird place.”  
  
“ _Hey_.”  
  
“I just wanna see what’s going on in there.”  
  
Harry clears his throat. “Okay. Okay, yeah.”  
  
So he begins. He starts off explaining how he met Louis 14 years ago, and how he was immediately drawn to him. He tells Ellis how close they were, and how it didn’t take very long for Harry to realize that he looked at Louis more than his best friend, and how badly he wanted all of him.  
  
Ellis listens quietly, nodding, when Harry mumbles, “I knew I was in love with him when I was 14, and I told him for the first time when I was 16. I never doubted that he loved me too. I would have walked to the end of the Earth for him, and I knew that if I did, I would have found him already there, waiting for me.”  
  
Harry finishes his tea and places it on the bedside table. “We agreed that we would stay together when we went to uni. Like, it wasn’t ever really a thought that we would break up, even though we were going to universities that are several hours apart. And the first year was hard, but we made it. Being away from each other made coming back home that much special.” Harry takes a shaky breath. “And then, at the start of last year, he called me and told me we needed to take a break, and that it wasn’t necessarily a break-up. I was just so taken aback by it, so unprepared. And at first, I was just fucking mad. I sat there and screamed at him over the phone, Ellis. I didn’t take the time to listen to what he had to say. I just yelled and called him a coward for not even having the audacity to break up with me in person. And when he told me it was because he knew he’d change his mind if he saw my face, I told him he was pathetic.” He digs his nails into his palm, leaving faint, white marks. “He tried to tell me that he loved me more than anything but was afraid he would resent me if we didn’t ever spend time as individuals. Everyone knew us as Louis _and_ Harry, not as Louis _or_ Harry.” Harry shrugs, looking out the window. “I don’t know. Now that it’s been enough time, I can understand and see where he was coming from. It makes sense. It’s just hard to lose someone like him in one single conversation.”  
  
Ellis pulls at the threadwork on the duvet. “What did you say when he told you he wanted a break?”  
  
“I told him that wasn’t a real thing. Either you break up or you don’t.”  
  
“What was his response?”  
  
“He just repeated that he didn’t want to lose me completely, but he wanted a break for now. I told him he was selfish. And he said probably.”  
  
“When did you decide you wanted to go from ‘break’ to ‘break-up’?”  
  
Harry huffs out a laugh. “We didn’t. I just… Haven’t spoken to him since.”  
  
“Oh, Harry…”  
  
“No, I don’t want, like, your sympathy. Or have you think he’s a bad person. Because he isn’t.” Harry rolls his shoulders, squinting at the sunlight pouring through the slit in the curtains, wishing his head would stop pounding. “Louis broke my heart. It’s getting easier, but.” He shrugs. “Thanks for listening,” he says, not knowing how else to finish the conversation.  
  
Ellis scoots closer to Harry on the bed, puts his head on his shoulder, and murmurs, “You’re a smoke show, Styles. We can find you a new man in no time at all.”  
Harry laughs. “I appreciate it.”  
  
“No, but seriously, Hazza. I’m sorry. That’s a shit thing to have to go through.”  
  
“Yeah, it is. But I’m doing okay. At the time it was a lot worse. And during the interview a few months ago, it felt like I was taking a few steps backward. Wish I didn't let it affect me as much.”  
  
Ellis hums in agreement. “Do you think about calling him?”  
  
Harry answers without hesitation. “Everyday.”  
  
“Maybe you can meet up with him over winter hols.”  
  
“Yeah.” He sighs. “Maybe.”

\---

Harry’s sat at home in between his mum and Gemma on the couch watching a film two days before Christmas when he snaps. He’d been teetering back and forth between contacting Louis since he got home earlier in the week, but now, he’s so jittery, he feels like he’s on fire. He _needs_ to talk to him.  
  
He excuses himself and makes his way to his bedroom, clutching his phone against his chest, telling his heart to shut up and quit beating so fucking fast.  
It takes him about 20 minutes to finally dial Louis’ entire number, and when it starts ringing, he thinks he might vomit.  
  
Louis doesn’t answer, though, and Harry has to make the immediate decision to either leave a voicemail, or hang up. The phone beeps, signaling he needs to leave a message, before he decides what he wants to do.  
  
“Uh, hi, Lou,” he begins awkwardly. He coughs into the phone. “‘m home from school, and I’m sure you are too. I, um, didn’t know if maybe you wanted to meet up somewhere?” He trails off, suddenly aware of how sweaty his palms are. “So, yeah, let me know. Oh, it’s Harry, by the way. Okay, bye.”  
  
He hangs up the phone, embarrassed, but feels his shoulders relax, and falls back onto his bed. He closes his eyes, and he has no idea how much time has passed when he feels his phone vibrating in his hand. When he sees _Lou_ come across the screen, his stomach knots.  
  
“Hello?” Harry answers, annoyed with how tightly wound his voice sounds.  
  
“Hello, yourself,” Louis says through the phone, and Harry immediately breaks out into a grin.  
  
“How’ve you been? You home for a bit?”  
  
“‘m good, H. Yeah, I’m home until mid-January, I think.” He pauses. “I was surprised to hear from you.”  
  
Harry swallows. “A shit surprise I bet.”  
  
“The worst.” Louis laughs. “Nah, I’m kidding. It’s nice to hear from you. Really nice.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah, of course.”  
  
Harry hates how formal it is, but _fuck_ , it feels so good to hear Louis after so long. “If you weren’t busy later or something…” He doesn’t know how to end that sentence without sounding desperate.  
  
“Harry, do you want to come over? I’m sure Mum and the girls would die to see you. And I wouldn’t mind either.” Harry can almost _hear_ Louis’ smirk through the phone.  
  
“Aren’t you sweet?” he teases. Louis laughs. “But yeah, I’ll come over if you want me to.”  
  
“I do.”  
  
“Okay. I’ll be there around 8?”  
  
“Lovely. I’ll see you, Haz.”  
  
Vomiting is a real possibility. “See you then, Lou.”

 

When Harry shows up at Louis’ house a few hours later, he feels comforted by the fact that Louis’ house looks exactly the same. But glancing in the mirror in his car, he suddenly realizes how different _he_ looks. The last time he saw Louis, his hair was significantly shorter, his jawline was much less defined, and his number of tattoos have increased, much to his mother’s dismay. The changes are subtle to people like Ellis and James who see him everyday, but for someone who hasn’t seen him in over a year, it might be noticeable.  
  
Harry knocks on the door and he holds his breath when he hears footsteps approaching, and when Louis opens the door, Harry is shocked by how different _Louis_ looks, too.  
  
“What the fuck, did you grow like, an entire foot?” Louis says, his mouth hanging open.  
  
Harry bursts out into laughter. “Maybe you’re just shrinking.”  
  
“Fuck you!” Louis smiles. “Come here.”  
  
Harry obeys immediately, barreling into Louis’ arms, surprised by how much smaller Louis feels. Maybe he’s right; how much could he have possibly grown in a year? Isn’t he supposed to be done growing by age 21?  
  
They stand in an embrace for far too long to be considered a friendly hug, and when they pull away, Harry’s embarrassed when he feels his eyes growing misty. He isn’t alone.  
  
He squeezes Louis’ arm and whispers, “Missed you.”  
  
Louis lowers his gaze, smiling slightly. “Missed you so much.”  
  
Harry’s eyes rakes over Louis. His hair is styled differently - more product, but still lovely - more lines around his eyes, and new ink added permanently into his skin, too. His mouth feels dry. “You look really good, Louis.”  
  
Louis blushes. “You’re one to talk. You’re a fucking giant. And your hair…” He reaches out to dip his fingers into Harry’s curls. “This is a fun hairdo.”  
  
“I don’t know if that’s a compliment.”  
  
“It is.”  
  
They stand in the entryway, staring at each other, until Daisy, Phoebe, Fizzy, and Lottie all come barreling toward Harry at once. They’re all screaming his name, shrieking, and tackle him to the floor.  
  
“Oi! I didn’t get this kind of welcome when _I_ came home!” Louis jokes.  
  
“We see you enough! We haven’t seen Harry in a hundred years!” Fizzy yells.  
  
“A _hundred_?!” Harry laughs from beneath the pile of girls on the floor.  
  
It takes Jay reprimanding from the kitchen to get the girls off of Harry, and when she walks into the entryway, extremely pregnant, Harry feels like he could cry. He knew he missed Louis, but he didn’t realize just how badly he ached for the entire family.  
  
He pushes himself off of the floor and nearly jumps into Jay’s arms. She feels the same as always. He melts into it, squeezing tightly.  
  
“Harry, love, how are you, sweetheart?” she murmurs into his ear.  
  
“I’m good, Jay. Missed you,” he says, his throat tight.  
  
“I missed you, too.” She pulls away. “You look lovely, Harry. How’s Mum?”  
  
He smiles. “Thank you. She’s good. Lonely without me and Gemma there all the time.”  
  
Jay gestures to the chaos of girls running around. “Can’t even imagine what that’s like.”  
  
Harry laughs. “I suppose not. And congratulations!” he exclaims, pointing at her belly.  
  
She smiles, and they chat easily for a few minutes. The entire time, Harry can feel Louis’ gaze on him. He can tell his neck is heating up, and he rubs it aimlessly.  
“Well, Harry, it’s lovely to catch up with you, but I assume Louis wants to hog a bit of your time, yeah?”  
  
Louis rolls his eyes. “No, no, you can have him. I’ll just go upstairs. Harry, be a doll and let yourself out when you’re done here. It was nice to see you.” He winks. Harry feels like he’s in hell.  
  
Jay scoffs. “Enough of that. Harry, go on upstairs. I’ll chat with you some more later. Tell Mum I said hello and I’ll call her soon.”  
  
“I will.”  
  
Harry follows Louis upstairs, and it all feels so familiar. The last time they walked up these stairs together, Louis led the way, and Harry’s hands were on his waist, squeezing, his mouth on Louis’ neck, Louis whispering, “Wait like, 10 seconds Harry, fuck,” Harry murmuring, “I can’t. Need to fuck you.”  
  
This time, he keeps his hands in his pockets, and both boys are silent.  
  
They get up to Louis’ room and it looks the same for the most part. There are still pictures of Harry on the wall, and he tries not to actively stare at them.  
Louis sits down on his bed and Harry uncomfortably looks around. It wasn’t that long ago that he used to sit down next to him, wrapped up in each other, but now, he just looks down at the floor.  
  
“You can sit next to me, Curly, I promise I won’t hurt you.”  
  
Harry forces a smile. “Okay.”  
  
He takes a seat next to Louis and tries to calm his racing heart. He can tell by the way Louis is fiddling with his hands that he feels just as out of sorts as Harry does. It’s comforting to know he isn’t alone, isn’t the only one out of his element.  
  
“I’m sorry if this is weird,” Harry stutters out after a few moments of dead silence.  
  
Louis snorts. “I hate that it’s weird.”  
  
Harry nods, unsure of how to respond.  
  
Louis sighs. “Have Liam and Niall visited you at school much?”  
  
He brightens up at that. “They have, actually, quite a bit. Niall spent the weekend a few weeks ago, and Liam came up for a party just before I came home for break. I’ve gone to see Niall, as well.”  
  
“Liam told me he saw you. He visited me the day after. Told me all about your flatmates, Ellis and James, was it?”  
  
Harry smiles. “Good memory, Tommo.” Louis shrugs, and doesn’t say anything else, so Harry continues. “Yeah, the three of us decided to get a flat together this year, and we get on really well. You would really love them, Lou. Especially James. He’s a shit like you.”  
  
“Gee, thanks!”  
  
Harry laughs. “I think that’s why I got on so well with him at first. He reminded me of you in a lot of ways.”  
  
Louis smiles. “Still haven’t found anyone quite like you, meself.”  
  
He drops his head to Louis’ shoulder, and Louis wraps his arm around him. They sit like that for a long time, in complete silence, but this time, nothing about it is weird.

 

Harry and Louis stay up until half two in the morning, talking about school, family, new friends, old friends, and everything else in between. Louis makes stupid jokes like he always has, and Harry still laughs without fail. Niall and Liam used to joke that Harry was Louis’ biggest fan. Harry could never deny it.  
  
Eventually, they slide down onto the floor together, backs pressed up against the side of Louis’ bed. Harry pulls his knees up to his chest and Louis traces shapeless patterns into the carpet. The moon outside is bright enough that Harry can see snowflakes falling onto the property. The stark white against the navy blue sky seems to illuminate the bare trees.  
  
Louis knocks his knee against Harry’s. “I’m really sorry for everything last year, Haz. I know this is a shit apology and it’s really overdue, but everything that happened the way it did… I can’t believe I allowed it to happen that way and I’m embarrassed and this is really hard for me to say, fuck. Harry, I’m just so, so sorry.” He runs his fingers through his fringe. “And you have no idea how much I miss you in my life. The hardest part of not having you anymore is not having you as my best friend. Jesus Christ, do you know how many times a day I reach for the phone to tell you something that reminds me of you? Fuck.”  
  
Harry furrows his brows. He can’t think of a response that isn’t _You absolutely broke my heart and I’ve needed you every single day for the past 15 months_ , so instead, he settles with, “Are you doing anything for your birthday?”  
  
Louis chews on his bottom lip. “Uh, yeah, Will wants to take me out to dinner.”  
  
Harry closes his eyes. It requires every ounce of strength he has when he asks, “Who’s Will?”  
  
Long pause. “My boyfriend.”  
  
Harry wants to punch Louis square in the face. Or himself. He can’t decide. “So were you just not ever gonna mention that to me?”  
  
“What was I supposed to say, Harry? It’s nice to see you, you look hot as fuck, and by the way, I have a boyfriend?”  
  
He might actually hit him. “Fuck you, Louis, you _know_ that’s not fair.”  
  
“Now how does _that_ make sense?”  
  
“You spew a bunch of garbage about how much you miss me but you’re dating some fuck named Will and…” It suddenly dawns on Harry that this isn’t the first time he’s heard the name Will before. “Wait. Your old _flatmate_ Will?” Louis doesn’t answer. “What the _fuck_ , Louis?!”  
  
“What, Harry, what do you want me to say?”  
  
Harry swallows hard. “How long have you been dating him.” He asks it like a statement. Louis rubs his eyes before he answers.  
  
“About a year.”  
  
He’s about three seconds from punching him straight in the face. “A _year_?!” He gets up off the floor, reaching for his jacket near the door. “You started seeing this creep _three months_ after you and I broke up after _five years_ of dating?! Are you fucking kidding me?!” His heart is nearly lodged in his throat, he can’t even see straight. Louis doesn’t stand up. He can’t even look at Harry.  
  
Harry’s hands are shaking as he grabs his keys. He looks down at Louis as he reaches for the doorknob, eyes blazing when he spits out, “Wouldn’t be surprised if you fucking cheated on me too, yeah?”  
  
That’s when Louis moves. He crosses the room and gets up in Harry’s face. “Fuck you for _ever_ accusing me of that, _especially_ since you know the shit that went on with me mum and all the shit guys that have walked all over her. I _never_ cheated on you. I loved you so fucking much, Harry, I would _never_ do that to you.”  
  
“Loved me enough to break up with me over the phone. No, I’m sorry, not even break up. Just put me on hold until something better came along. Apparently that something is named Will, yeah?” And suddenly, all he can think about is the conversation he had with Louis the night before he went back to school his second year. It’s like the puzzle pieces all fit together. He’s going to be sick.  
  
Louis pushes Harry back against the door, the doorknob digging into his back. Harry grimaces. “I broke up with you because I was so fucking _afraid_ that I was going to do something to fuck it up, with the idea in mind that we would come back together again when we were both positive we were in it for the long haul, no doubts, _nothing_. I clearly did a shitty job at ending it, probably because I didn’t want to. Not for a fucking second. And Will was there for me. He told me I was a fucking idiot for leaving you, because he knew how much you meant to me. I’m fucking sorry I fell in love with him along the way. I didn’t mean for it to happen, Harry. I’m sorry. And Will isn’t _better_ than you. He’s _different_.” Louis pauses to collect himself for a moment, his next words like knives, “But at least he wouldn’t _ever_ accuse me of cheating. So maybe he _is_ better.”  
  
Harry’s chest is heaving. He knows if he tries to retaliate, he’ll end up crying. He doesn’t want Louis to see that. He doesn’t want to be weak. His breath is shaky when he manages to stutter out, “I never had any doubts about you, or about us.”  
  
“Well, aren’t you just perfect then, yeah? Forgive me, I’m human.”  
  
Harry can’t handle anymore. He shoves Louis off of him, twists the doorknob, and steps out the door. Over his shoulder he chokes out, “Happy birthday.”

 

  
Even through a closed door and halfway down the hallway, Harry can hear Louis start to cry, followed by a solid punch to the wall.

* * *

_**September** _  
_**Age 28** _

The camera crew sets up the familiar set in Harry’s living room. They move the leather couch out of the way, accidentally knocking over a picture of Harry and his husband over in the process.  
  
“Whoa! Watch where you’re going!” he jokes. “If my boy comes home and sees that broken, he’ll kick you all out!”  
  
Eloise laughs. “You heard the man. Careful!”  
  
Harry knows his mark once the lights turn on, bright and blinding. “I’m Harry Styles, I’m 28 years old, and I thought I wanted to be a lawyer, but discovered I am most definitely not cut out for that life. Instead, I teach secondary level literature and I adore it.” He smiles. “I’ve been living in London since I graduated, and I’ve called this particular house ‘home’ for about two years now. Moved in before I got married last year.”  
  
Augustus beams at Harry. “Glad to see you in better shape than the last time we had a chat.”  
  
“Me, too, mate.”  
  
“Current goals for yourself, Harry?”  
  
“To finish renovating this fucking kitchen.” The crew chuckles. “I promised the spouse it would be done by… About 11 weeks ago. So I’m right on schedule.” He beams. “It’ll look good eventually. I hope.”  
  
“And goals for the future?”  
  
“I think I want to see more of the world. I’ve always wanted to travel and experience new cities and countries, and now is the time to do that, yeah? Before we have kids, before we’re completely settled. I’m very excited to visit the United States, and there’s still a lot of the UK that I haven’t seen yet.”  
  
“You’re thinking about kids, love?” Eloise asks.  
  
“‘m always thinking about kids.” The dimple pops out. “But now, it’s serious. We’re looking into adoption. We actually started filling out some of the forms this past weekend. It’s daunting.”  
  
Augustus picks up. “That it is. Do you think this kind of helps segway into the next question?”  
  
Harry laughs. “Absolutely. The idea of having kids is literally terrifying. I am so scared to have a tiny human being to take care of for the rest of my life. What if I’m total shit at it? The only thing that keeps me grounded is knowing I have the most stable partner. He isn’t ever going anywhere. And if anything, our child is going to bring us even closer together.” He looks down at his lap, smiling. “This is nauseating, sorry.”  
  
Augustus shrugs with a smirk on his face. “Love to see you happy, kid.”  
“Thanks, Gus.”  
  
“Alright, final question, and then you don’t have to see us again until you’re 35.”  
  
“Oh, sweet lord, 35?”  
  
“Exactly. Okay, Harry, what’s love mean to you?”  
  
Harry’s grin is deep rooted. “ _This_ is the easy one this time. The love of my life is due home within the next 15 minutes or so. Just record the look he gives me when he walks in the door and you’ll see what I mean.” He can tell Augustus is fighting an eye roll. He bites at his bottom lip as he smiles. “Love is when I roll over in the morning and see my husband with his hair matted to his forehead and chapped lips and I still wanna snog his face off, even though I know he most _definitely_ has rancid morning breath.” The crew laughs lightly. “I dunno. I haven’t always loved him. Hated him sometimes, even. And there have been other people, really important people, who have mattered deeply…”  
  
He hears the front door kick open, followed by a loud shrill of, “Oi! Get these people out of my house! I want to shag my husband!”  
  
Harry snorts. “You’re so embarrassing!” he yells back.  
  
“You’re stuck with me! Take your pants off!”  
  
He looks up at the camera, knowing he’s blushing. “He said the same thing to me on our wedding night. In front of our mothers.”  
  
Louis appears at the doorway. “Hello all, are we almost done here?”  
  
Harry nods. “Yeah, almost, give me like, two more minutes?”  
  
He huffs. “You have two minutes exactly.” He spins off on his heel, bouncing with every step.  
  
Harry clears his throat. “There have been other people who have mattered to me so much,” he continues, “but honestly, no one matters like he does.”  
  
“Oh, God, I heard that,” Louis hollers from the other room. “That’s how you talk about me to strangers?!”  
  
“They’re not strangers! We love Augustus and El!”  
  
“The viewers in the future, you idiot!”  
  
Harry looks back at the camera and shrugs. “That’s my husband, Louis Tomlinson. I think you’re all a bit familiar with him. And see? I told you. He loves me so much.”

* * *

After the screaming match in Louis’ bedroom the night before his 22nd birthday, Harry drives around aimlessly, afraid to go home, afraid to do _anything_ out of fear of just completely breaking down. He passes an endless string of houses with twinkling Christmas lights, and he wants to rip them all down.

He calls Ellis, who was only as helpful as one can be through the phone 103 miles away, and eventually, he finds himself standing in Niall’s driveway, blinking snowflakes out of his eyes, teeth chattering from the cold. He tiptoes across the walkway and searches for the spare key under the doormat, not wanting to knock and wake up Niall’s parents, seeing as it’s nearly four in the morning. He breathes out a sigh of relief when he feels it under the corner of the mat, nearly completely covered by snow.  
  
Harry lets himself in, creeping in the familiar entry of Niall’s childhood home, feeling his way through the dark, knowing exactly where every frame, table, and creak in the floor is. He makes his way up the stairs and stops at the first door on the left, twisting the knob slowly, blinking in the harsh light of the telly left on.  
He takes off his boots quietly and shimmies out of his jacket, letting it rustle to the floor. When he sits on the end of the bed and gently wraps his hand around Niall’s ankle through the blankets, Niall stirs slightly, and then stills again.  
  
“Niall,” Harry says, just above a whisper. His head is pounding. No movement from Niall.  
  
“Niall,” he tries again, squeezing his ankle a bit harder this time. Niall blinks once, twice, and when his eyes focus on Harry, he screams.  
Harry jumps back. “Sorry! I’m sorry!”  
  
Niall sits up in bed. “Jesus fucking Christ, Harry! What the fuck are you doing?!” He looks genuinely terrified, his eyes wild, and his hair even wilder. Suddenly, this entire thing is hysterical. Harry bursts out laughing, holding his stomach, doubled over in laughter, tears streaming down his face.  
  
“Have you gone fucking _mad_?!” Niall shrieks.  
  
“No, no…” Harry rubs his eyes, trying to catch his breath. “I’m sorry, I just needed someone--”  
  
“To give a heart attack to?! Very good, I’m just about there,” Niall says, breathing heavily.  
  
“‘m really sorry, Niall. But oh God, that was rich.”  
  
“Fuck you. What time is it?”  
  
“Uh, about half four.”  
  
Niall’s face is positively comical. “You better be dying, Styles. How did you even get in here?”  
  
“Spare key under the doormat.”  
  
Niall scoffs. “I will be relocating that first thing in the morning.”  
  
Harry crawls into the bed with Niall, burrowing his head into Niall’s shoulder. “I’m so lucky you love me.”  
  
“Yeah, you fucking are, otherwise I would have shoved you out the fucking window.” He kisses the top of Harry’s head. “Okay, seriously, why are you here at arse o’clock?”  
  
Harry closes his eyes, yanking the blanket up to his shoulders. “I saw Louis.”  
  
Niall stops shifting around on the bed. “Yeah?”  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me he was dating Will? You or Liam?”  
  
Niall coughs awkwardly. “I don’t know, Harry… Why would I want to be the one to tell you that?”  
  
“Maybe because I’ve been waiting for him for over a year now, and it would have been nice to get some closure. And there’s nothing quite like hearing the guy you’ve been in love with since year eight say that he’s in love with someone else. That screams closure to me.”  
  
“Ah, shit, Harry, ‘m sorry.”  
  
“It was just a really fucking shitty night. And I didn’t wanna be alone. Need you, Ni.”  
  
“Then stay.”

 

So he does.

* * *

When Harry goes back to school after winter hols, he ready for a fresh start. For real this time. He tells Ellis and James, who slap him on the back and tell him to get out there.

For months, he spends every weekend pissed in sleazy bars, grinding on random girls on the dance floor, sucking off nameless guys in the toilets, and bringing home men and women alike, trying to find that spark.  
  
“You’re not gonna find what you’re looking for by bringing home horny guys to fuck and send on their way the next morning,” James tells him one afternoon after making eyes at the sixth guy Harry has brought home in three weeks.  
  
“You never know,” Harry counters.  
  
“I think I do,” James says, rolling his eyes.  
  
Harry shrugs. “Whatever. I’m satisfied. Are you?”  
  
James’ smile is evil. “You really wanna know?”  
  
He pauses before making a face. “You win.”

 

Harry ends up finding the spark he’s been chasing late one night in April. It isn’t in the toilets of the dirty club, and it isn’t under the sheets of his bed while he’s sweating and thrusting into a stranger. Rather, it’s at the coffee shop on campus while he’s elbow deep in study material, surrounded by weeks worth of homework, empty cups of tea covering the table he’s monopolizing.  
  
“I would ask if you’d like a refill but I’m afraid you’re going to be awake until next Tuesday.”  
  
He looks up at the voice to see a broad but lean man who looks to be about his age, maybe a year or two older. He has blonde hair, deep brown eyes that Harry feels like he’s swimming in, and he’s wearing an apron.  
  
Harry smiles. “You work here, or you just really like the attire?”  
  
The man snorts out a laugh. “What, you don’t like the apron?”  
  
He shrugs. “It’s not bad.”  
  
Chocolate eyes gestures toward the chair next to Harry. “May I sit?”  
  
“You can. I’d love a break from all of this shit,” he says, pointing to the piles of papers around him, some fluttering to the floor.  
  
He laughs. “I’m Justin, by the way.”  
  
Harry holds out his hand. “Harry.”  
  
Justin shakes Harry’s hand and sits down, shoving Harry’s study material off to the side. “So, what exactly do we have going on here?”  
  
Harry sighs. “When I know, I’ll tell you.” He pauses. “Wait, you offered me tea. Are you still on the clock? Are you allowed to be sitting with me?”  
  
Justin raises his eyebrows. “Look around. It’s fairly empty. Just me and you.”  
  
Harry peers over Justin’s shoulder. He’s right. It’s deserted. “Huh. When did that happen?”  
  
“Probably when you had your nose pressed to that huge book for the past two hours.”  
  
“Have you been watching me?”  
  
Justin smiles. “How could I _not_ be watching you? You’re gorgeous.”  
  
Harry knows it’s a line, but he blushes anyway.  
  
They talk until nearly three in the morning, the conversation so easy that Harry doesn’t check the time once.  
  
“You’re gonna be the reason I fail my exam tomorrow,” Harry says while he packs up his papers.  
  
Justin shrugs. “I wish I was sorry about that.”

 

Harry doesn’t fail his exam, exactly. He receives one point _above_ failing. It’s the worst mark he’s received since he began uni three years ago.

  
He doesn’t care in the slightest.

* * *

Harry and Justin start dating officially by the end of that month, and when the school year ends, Harry isn’t dreading going back home like he did the summer prior. This time, he doesn’t feel haunted by the boy with blue eyes down the road who had long since forgotten about him. Instead, he has a new boy, one who is so, so different from his first love, but every bit as important. He tells corny jokes, he sends Harry flowers, he brings him on a family holiday where Harry feels ridiculously at home amongst Justin’s parents and his two brothers… His heart doesn’t ache for something he can’t have anymore; he feels whole again. And that’s what he tells Justin on a hazy day in the middle of August.  
  
“We haven’t talked much about past relationships, and I still don’t think I want to,” Harry admits, “but I just want you to know that the last one I came out of was unbearably intense and it took a long time for me to be fully happy and myself again.” He grins. “I owe a lot of that to you. I think… I think I love you, and I just needed you to know that.”  
  
Justin’s smile is bright when he leans in to kiss Harry slowly and purposefully. “I love you, too,” he whispers against Harry’s lips.

 

And for the next year and a half, everything is _perfect_.

\---

Harry graduates university with incredible marks, James and Ellis by his side, a diploma in one hand, and Justin’s firm grasp in the other. His mum, dad, stepfather, and Gemma all whistle and cheer loudly when his name is called, their pride for him evident to all onlookers.

  
  
Together, Harry and Justin plan to look at flats together in London. Justin had just landed a job at the local hospital, and the internship Harry was set to begin within the next few weeks was in the city, as well, so they agreed to take the next step and flat hunt.

That’s exactly what they’re doing when Harry gets a call from his mum.  
  
“Hi, love, are you busy right now?”  
  
Harry holds up a finger to Justin, signaling he needs a minute. “A bit, yeah. Justin and I are looking at a flat.”  
  
“Oh, shoot, it slipped my mind that you’re doing that today. I’ll be quick. I just got off the phone with Jay…”  
  
Harry’s heart sinks. “Is she okay?”  
  
“Not really, no.”  
  
“Is it Louis? What happened?”  
  
“Louis is fine, Harry. It’s Louis’ grandmother.” Anne pauses. “She passed away last night in her sleep.”  
  
Harry’s mouth goes dry. “How…”  
  
“She had a stroke.”  
  
“Christ.” He doesn’t know what else to say.  
  
“Don’t feel like you need to go if you’re busy, but the funeral is in two days. I’ll be attending with Robin.”  
  
Harry mindlessly scratches his jaw. “No, I’ll go. I think it would be nice if I went.”  
  
“I think so, too.”  
  
Harry says goodbye to his mum and when he hangs up the phone, Justin is staring curiously.  
  
“I, uh, I have to go to a funeral on Thursday,” he whispers.  
  
“Oh, babe, I’m so sorry. Who for? Would you like me to come?”  
  
Harry shakes his head. “No, that’s okay. It’s for an old friend’s grandmother. You go home to your family. And we’ll do some more flat searching over the weekend?”  
  
Justin nods and pulls Harry in for a tight hug. “You do what you need to do. I’m not going anywhere.”

* * *

Harry is dressed entirely in black, sat at the church between his mum, Robin, Liam, and his parents. Niall and his mum are sat in the row behind them.

The church is decorated beautifully, and it’s clear how many people love the Tomlinson family. Hundreds of people are here to pay their respects, and Harry feels comforted by the fact that _Louis_ is being comforted, regardless of who it’s by.  
  
He remains stoic, occasionally making eyes at Liam, throughout the service, and one of Louis’ cousins reads a beautiful poem. Halfway through it, he sees Jay dabbing at the corner of her eye. Louis leans over to squeeze her hand.  
  
The funeral immediately follows, and Harry stands behind the majority of the crowd, leaving room for the enormous Tomlinson family up front. All of the grandchildren place a single flower on the casket, and though Harry is as far back as he can be, he is still able to make out the slight tremor in Louis’ hand when he rests the white rose down.

 

Harry hasn’t spoken to Louis once yet - he isn’t sure if Louis even knows he’s present, to be honest - and he’s struggling to find the right time to approach him. So when he’s leaving the cemetery, head down, shuffling through the dirt and dust on the ground, he assumes he’ll see him later on, back at the church, maybe. He isn’t expecting it when he feels a hand grasp him by the shoulder. He jumps slightly and turns, cheeks reddening when he sees it’s Louis. He immediately goes in for a hug.

Louis buries his head into the crook of Harry’s shoulder and whispers, “Thank you for being here,” muffled against Harry’s suit jacket.  
  
Harry runs his hands up and down Louis’ back. “Of course, Lou.”  
  
They don’t move for a while, family and friends walking around their mini reunion, and when Louis finally pulls back from their embrace, he’s sniffling. “‘m sorry.”  
Harry frowns. “For what, love?”  
  
Louis’ eyes fill with tears. “Fuck, Harry, the last time I saw you I was such a dick and you still show up for me when I need you and…” He trails off, tears spilling over.  
  
Harry grabs Louis’ hands, shaking his head. “No, absolutely not. You do _not_ apologize for that. Especially not here, not today.” He squeezes Louis’ hand in his own. “I’m here for whatever you need. Nothing else matters, okay?”  
  
Louis chokes out a laugh. “Jesus, what did I do to deserve you?”  
  
“You don’t deserve me, so take advantage while you’re vulnerable and I take pity on you.”  
  
His laugh is genuine this time. “If you insist.”  
  
They walk back to the cars together in silence, and Harry acts on a surge of courage. “I don’t know what you have planned for this weekend, but if you wanted to get together to get your mind off of things, I’d be happy to keep you company. I still have my flat on campus under my name until the end of the month, so we could hang out there?” He tries to gauge Louis’ reaction, but after years of no contact, Harry now finds him hard to read. “We could invite Niall and Liam, too.” He clears his throat before he says, “And Will, if you’d like.”  
  
Louis gives a half-hearted smile. “Niall and Liam is a good idea, but, uh, Will would probably be a no show. We… Um, we broke up about a year ago.”  
  
Harry is incredibly uncomfortable, and is suddenly aware that he’s blinking an awful lot. “Shit, Lou, I’m sorry.”  
  
Louis waves his hand. “It’s all good, no worries. But yeah, I think some time away from this shitstorm would be nice. My family could probably use a break from me.” He pauses and scratches the back of his neck. “Maybe you could bring James and Ellis. Those are their names, yeah?”  
  
Harry is surprised. “Wow, yeah, can’t believe you remembered that. I’ll talk to them.” _Louis is single. Louis is single._  “Do you want to bring anyone from school? Let’s keep ‘em coming.”  
  
Louis smiles. “Yeah, sure, I want you to meet Zayn.”  
  
_Maybe Louis isn’t single._ “Okay, sure, Zayn.” He pulls Louis in for another hug and whispers against the top of his head, “Probably an inappropriate setting, but you look gorgeous, Louis.”  
  
Louis snorts. “Never inappropriate to tell me that, H.”  
  
He smiles as he lets go and starts to make his way back to his family when he hears Louis sigh from behind him before he says, “And you look better than ever. Really, it’s not fair.”  
  
Harry winks over his shoulder and slides into the back seat of his mum’s car, heart pounding in his chest. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

 

Harry calls Justin on his way home from the service. He answers on the second ring.  
  
“Hi, babe, how’d it go?”  
  
“About as well as any funeral can go. Mostly just excited to get out of this fucking suit.”  
  
Justin laughs. “I bet.”  
  
“Listen, I know I said we could continue flat hunting this weekend, but I think we need to have a change of plans. Louis - he’s the one I went to the funeral for - is having a tough time and I told him he could crash at the flat on campus, and he was buzzing about it. He said he wants to meet Ellis and James, and I told him we should invite Liam and Niall up. Oh, and he’s gonna bring his friend Zayn from school.”  
  
Justin hums. “Okay, no worries, we can do that. Have I, uh, have I met this Louis?”  
  
Harry chews on his bottom lip, trying his best to sound nonchalant. “No, I don’t think so.”  
  
“He didn’t mention wanting to meet me?” Harry can hear a hint of teasing in his voice, and he uses that as his way out.  
  
“ _Everyone_ wants to meet you, love, don’t worry, you’re the _most_ important.”  
  
He chuckles. “Good answer. Okay, I’ll see you in the morning?”  
  
“Mhmm. Gonna stay the night with Mum and Gemma and I’ll head back tomorrow.”  
  
“Alright. Love you, H.”  
  
“Love you, too.” When he hangs up the phone, he immediately dials Ellis’ number.  
  
“Hey, El, you ready to meet Louis Tomlinson?”

* * *

Justin gets called into work at last minute, just before the group arrives. Harry smiles, and tells him it’s no big deal, but he mostly just wants to puke.  
  
Ellis and James show up first, thank _God_ , followed by Liam and Niall a bit later. Harry has taken two (or three… or four) shots by the time Louis and Zayn pull up to the flat some time after that.  
  
He lets Liam get the door for him - he apparently _loves_ Zayn from all the times he visited Louis at school - and he waits on the couch, angry that he feels so out of place in his own home.  
  
Louis and Zayn saunter in together, laughing and joking, Liam joining in, and Harry regrets this already. _Sure, Louis, bring your boyfriend, I’d love nothing more than to watch you flirt in front of me. Bloody fucking hell._ But when Louis spots Harry, his face nearly splits in half with a grin. _Zayn who?_  
  
He nearly charges at Harry, crushing him into the couch, and says, “Hi, your flat smells like shit.”  
  
Harry barks out a laugh from under Louis’ weight. “It smells better than you.”  
  
Louis’ response is to drop himself entirely onto Harry, nearly choking him. Harry groans but doesn’t push him off. They stay wrapped up like that, even when Louis, Ellis, and James start playing Fifa together, talking like they’ve known each other forever. Harry is able to make eye contact with Ellis about 15 minutes into their game, and Ellis mouths, _Can I keep him?_ Harry flips him off.  
  
Zayn eventually leaves his post from next to Niall and perches himself on the arm of the chair next to Harry. Harry looks up at Zayn the best he can with Louis’ torso still weighing him down. Zayn’s smile is friendly enough, but it doesn’t exactly reach his eyes.  
  
Harry pinches Louis’ side. “Oi, what the fuck was that for?”  
  
“Can you get up? Wanna talk to Zayn.”  
  
“Be nice to him,” he says, moving slightly so Harry can slide out from underneath him. He has no idea if Louis’ talking to him or to Zayn. It goes both ways, he figures.  
  
Harry gestures toward the kitchen and Zayn follows, both ignoring Louis’ intense gaze.  
  
They each take a seat on separate bar stools, Harry nervously peeling the label off of his drink. He turns to Zayn. “Why do I feel like I’m meeting the parents right now?”  
  
Zayn snorts. “Because you’re intuitive. You can tell I would right fuck you up if you did anything to hurt Louis.”  
  
“Charmed to meet you, by the way.”  
  
Zayn leans back on the stool a bit. “I met Louis a few months after he started dating William. Will was so different from Louis. He took his studies super seriously, and Louis preferred to spend his time pissed and watching football.”  
  
Harry isn’t sure where he’s going with this. “Sounds like Lou.”  
  
“I’m more like Louis in that aspect, just quieter. I like to observe. And the first time I ever really watched Louis, I could tell he was running away from something. Or towards something. I couldn’t get a good read on him. All I knew was that he didn’t want to sit still because he wasn’t happy with where he was in his life.” Zayn takes a sip of his drink. “That make sense?”  
  
Harry nods.  
  
Zayn continues. “So I asked him about it.”  
  
“And he openly told you all his deepest, darkest secrets? To someone he barely knew? Are we talking about the same Louis?”  
  
“He was completely hammered.”  
  
“Ah, that makes more sense. Continue.”  
  
“Anyway, he talked to me about his mum and his sisters and how badly he wanted to make them proud. He talked about his shit father, his even shittier stepfather, and every other guy in between. He was carrying a lot of hate, Harry.”  
  
“Are you studying psychology, by any chance?”  
  
Zayn smiles. “I plan to use art therapy as my weapon of choice in schools and rehab centers.” He clears his throat. “We talked a lot about Will, too. Lou was so fucking crazy about him, it was disgusting.” Harry isn’t sure he wants to listen to this, and there’s no way it doesn’t read on his face. “But it became clear to everyone after a while that Will was Louis’ crutch. Everyone but Louis. He didn’t know he was doing it, and he felt an awful lot like shit when he realized it. I remember we were talking about it late one night, and he started crying. He told me ‘Will was there for me when I wouldn’t let Harry be there, and I’ve been taking advantage of that ever since, I think.’ He’d been talking about the ‘Curly boy back home’ for months - all innocent - but that was the first time he ever mentioned your name. That was over two years ago.” The look on Harry’s face must be hilarious, because Zayn bursts out laughing, his eyes crinkling. “Relax, mate. It’s been a long time since then, and he doesn’t sit around moping and crying over you like he used to. Will was really patient with him, but I think that patience eventually wore off. He told Louis he was too much to handle while he was trying to finish school.” Zayn shrugs. “I don’t blame Will, really.”  
  
Harry finds his voice. “At the risk of sounding like a total self-centered prick, did Louis and Will break up because of… me?”  
  
Zayn looks amused. “I don’t think so, no. They had a lot of other issues that eventually all became too much, and then everything kind of just exploded at once.” He rolls his shoulders, stretching. “But whatever happened the night before his birthday our third year at school totally fucked him up. Put a lot of strain on his relationship with Will. He never told me what happened. I think that’s basically the only thing I don’t know. Guess he wanted to keep something to himself, yeah? I can pretty much figure out the gist of what happened, anyway.”  
  
They’re both silent for a while, listening to Liam scream at Louis for God only knows what, Niall and Ellis laughing hysterically, James telling them all to shut the fuck up. Harry smiles. “Thank you for taking care of him,” he says eventually. “I think that’s probably a weird thing to say. It’s not like I handed him off to you, and he isn’t my kid. I dunno…” He looks at the clock, wondering where Justin is. “I’m really happy in my relationship with Justin, but it doesn’t mean I don’t think about Louis and worry about him. Because I do. Everyday.”  
  
If Zayn is surprised to hear Harry has a boyfriend, he doesn’t let it show. _Good quality in a therapis_ t, Harry thinks. “Louis is the best friend I’ve ever had, and he’s what made my university experience what it was. We have matching tattoos, you know.”  
  
Harry’s eyes grow wide in surprise. “I didn’t know that.” He aimlessly runs his fingers through his hair twice before he admits, “I _hate_ that I don’t really know university Louis.”  
  
“No, you don’t,” Zayn says, standing up, signaling this conversation is just about over. “But you know every other part of Louis. And that’s something _no one_ else can touch.”

 

  
About halfway through the game, Louis gets up off the couch, handing his controller off to Niall, and meets Harry in the kitchen. Harry watches Louis as he looks around, tracing his finger along the countertop, twisting the knobs on the drawers.

“I’m surprised you can afford this place on your own, Styles, even if it does reek.”  
  
Harry scrunches his nose. “It doesn’t smell. You’re an arse. But I can’t afford it on my own. I have a flatmate.”  
  
“Oh yeah? Anyone I know?”  
  
“Uh, no. His name is Justin.”  
  
And as if on cue, Justin makes his way through the door at that exact moment. He drops his keys on the counter and smiles at Louis.  
  
He sticks out his hand. “Hey, I’m Justin. You must be Louis?”  
  
“The one and only.”  
  
“Good to meet you, mate. Harry’s been talking my ear off about you over the past couple of days. He’d never really mentioned he had such a close friend from home, other than Niall and Liam. Sorry to hear about your grandmother, by the way. I lost mine a couple years back. It’s tough.”  
  
Louis eyes are soft when he says, “Thank you, I appreciate that.”  
  
“Of course.” Justin makes his way around the counter and puts his arms around Harry. “Hi, love.”  
  
Harry feels like his gaze is locked on Louis, and he can’t seem to rip his eyes away. “Hey.”  
  
Justin kisses Harry’s jaw and whispers, “I like this shirt on you.”  
  
“It’s yours.” He lowers his eyes to the ground, but he knows Louis is still staring at him.  
  
“Ha. That’s probably why. ‘kay, I’m gonna go make the rounds. Are Niall and Liam here, too?”  
  
Harry nods. “Yeah, plus Ellis and James. And Louis’ friend from school, Zayn.”  
  
“Excellent. I’ll be back,” he says, giving Louis a quick wave.  
  
Harry’s finally able to look back up at Louis, who looks torn between fight or flight.  
  
“So, Justin is your…”  
  
Harry swallows. “Boyfriend.” He feels like such a prick for being embarrassed to say the word _boyfriend_ , like it’s toxic. Christ.  
  
“Yeah, I can see that,” Louis stammers out with a bite. “For how long?”  
  
“Louis, there’s no reason for you to be cross with me,” Harry says, and immediately wishes he hadn’t.  
  
“Hey, I’m not fucking cross with anyone,” Louis spits. “A little annoyed you never mentioned him, but it’s whatever.” Harry clenches his jaw, trying to think of the right way to word his next sentence, but Louis beats him to it. “Fuck, I am _such_ a hypocrite.”  
  
Harry coughs out a laugh. “A bit, yeah.”  
  
Louis looks pained. He puts his elbows on the counter and bows his head down. “Sorry, just… Surprised, is all.”  
  
He nods, even though Louis isn’t looking at him. “It’s okay. I get it.” Neither of them speak for several moments. Harry sighs. “We’ve been dating almost a year and a half.”  
  
Louis’ head snaps up at that. “And this is the first time he’s heard about me? I'm flattered.”  
  
Harry frowns. “How do you figure that?”  
  
“He just said, ‘He’d never really mentioned he had such a close friend from home.’ Meaning, you haven’t mentioned me prior to this weekend. What’s that about, Hazza?”  
  
Harry’s frozen. His mind is a total blank. “I guess, uh, I’d never talked about you before because I didn’t want to get into the specifics of, um, my ex.”  
  
Louis blinks. He doesn’t ask why. Instead, he asks, “So why bring me up now?”  
  
“I didn’t want him to wonder why I was inviting a stranger he’d never heard of to our flat. Had to talk you up somehow.”  
  
Louis smirks when he connects the dots. “He still doesn’t know we dated, does he?”  
  
Harry scoffs. “Oh, don’t look so smug. I just didn’t know where to start, is all.” Louis is still smirking. “Piss off, Tommo!”  
  
Louis laughs. “That’s a little risky there, Styles. What if I slip up and tell him about the time we were snogging in your bedroom and you took your pants off but then you heard your mum walking up the stairs so you jumped out of bed so quickly that you tripped and smacked your head on the corner of your desk?” He reaches up to touch the mostly faded scar at Harry’s hairline. “Has he never asked where this came from?”  
  
Harry wants to be mad, but he’s nearly shaking from laughter. “Don’t you even _dare_ tell him that story. In fact, don’t tell _anyone_ that story. _Ever_.”  
  
“Zayn knows.”  
  
Harry rolls his eyes. “Of _course_ Zayn knows. Is there anything Zayn _doesn’t_ know?!”  
  
Louis’ smile fades. “Not really, no.”  
  
He puts his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, that’s kind of like me and Ellis.”  
  
“Mmm. Good lad, that Ellis. I like him. James, too.”  
  
“I _told_ you that you’d get on well.”  
  
“I should listen to you more.”  
  
“Took you long enough to figure that out.”  
  
Louis drums his fingers on the countertop. “Guess I was a step behind.”  
  
Harry puts his hand over Louis’, partially to get him to stop with the annoying tapping, partially because he needs the physical contact. “Let’s go back with the others, yeah?”  
  
Louis nods, stilling for a moment before pulling his hand out from under Harry’s. “Yeah, let’s go.”  
  
Harry peers into the other room and has to bite down a laugh. “Hey, Lou?”  
  
He looks up. “What?”  
  
“When you and Zayn first got here, I thought you were dating.”  
  
Louis immediately bursts into laughter, sinking to the kitchen floor, nearly howling. “Oh my _God_ , Harry! That’s the funniest thing you’ve ever said!” He’s snorting he’s laughing so hard, and Harry should be more embarrassed, but how can he be when he has Louis rolling around on his tiled floor?  
  
“Zayn! Guess what Harry thought!” Louis screams from the floor.  
  
“Fuck you, Louis!” Harry shrieks.  
  
Louis reaches out and grabs Harry’s ankle, yanking hard, causing him to trip and fall to the floor beside Louis. Harry punches him on the arm. “Can’t believe you thought I was dating Zayn. That’s almost as funny as the time you and I were snogging and you took your pants off and you thought you heard your mom and--”  
  
Harry covers Louis’ mouth with his hand, smiling. “Okay, that’s enough out of you.”  
  


* * *

It doesn’t take long after that for Harry and Louis to fall perfectly in sync again. Louis makes himself comfortable within Harry and Justin’s home, making the drive from home to the flat school multiple times a week. Harry isn’t sure if it’s because he’s seeking comfort now that his grandmother is gone, or because he’d just graduated from university and is feeling a little lost. Whatever the case, he isn’t complaining. He finds himself looking forward to coming home after work, knowing a boy named Louis will most likely be there waiting for him.

And apparently, he isn’t the only one who loves Louis’ company.  
  
One day, about a month into their rekindled friendship, Harry comes home from work to find Louis already on the couch, feet propped up.  
  
“Hi, honey,” Louis says, barely looking up from the telly, munching on a snack Harry had purchased the night before.  
  
“What the fuck.”  
  
“That’s welcoming,” Louis scoffs, turning up the volume.  
  
“How’d you even get in here?!”  
  
Louis rolls his eyes. “You’re not the only one in this place who’s in love with me, you know.”  
  
Harry makes a face of disgust and confusion, but he’s amused, and he knows Louis can see right through him. “What are you _even_ going on about?”  
  
“Justin let me in.”  
  
“Justin let you in.”  
  
“Yeah, he told me to come over. Wanted to hang out, and he knew you were working.”  
  
“He told you to come over.”  
  
“Stop repeating what I’m saying. Are you broken?”  
  
Harry shakes his head. “Sorry, I just didn’t know you and _Justin_ were so close, is all.”  
  
Louis raises an eyebrow. “Is that a problem for you?”  
  
He pauses. “Uh, I guess not. No, no it’s fine. I’m glad you get on.”  
  
“Okay, then.” He turns his full attention back to the telly.  
  
“Is Justin even here?”  
  
“No,” Louis mumbles, still watching his show. “He ran out to pick up some food for later.”  
  
“Oh.” He furrows his brows. “So, like, what do you and Justin do when I’m not here? Do you hang out a lot without me?”  
  
Louis groans. “Harry, I wouldn’t have said anything if I thought you were going to be a jealous prick about it.”  
  
“‘m not jealous!”  
  
“Liar.”  
  
Harry frowns. “I'm not lying! I like that you and Justin are friends. He’s really important to me and I’ve known you my entire life so it only makes sense that I want you two to like each other.”  
  
“Yes, that _would_ make sense.”  
  
“You’re making me feel like a dick.”  
  
Louis laughs. “I’m not doing anything, mate.”  
  
Harry walks over to Louis and settles down next to him on the couch. “But seriously, what do you guys do when I’m not around?”  
  
“Oh my God, you’re so annoying.”  
  
“Louis!”  
  
“Jesus, Harry. We play Fifa and drink and do normal lad stuff. Is that okay with you? Do I need your permission, dad?”  
  
Harry can tell Louis’ _actually_ annoyed now. “Okay, okay, sorry.”  
  
Louis sighs. “If it’s weird for you - which it shouldn’t be - I won’t hang around as much. I like Justin, though. He’s the kind of person I would have forced to be friends with me if I met him on my own.” Harry smiles. Louis continues. “It’s good to get away from my house, yeah? And I like catching up with you.”  
  
“Aw, Lou, did you _miss_ me?”  
  
“I didn’t say that. Piss off.”  
  
Harry smiles again and drops his head to Louis’ shoulder. “You can hang here whenever you want. I like when you’re here, too.”  
  
Louis doesn’t answer, but he squeezes Harry’s knee.

 

  
From then on, wherever Harry goes, that’s where Louis goes.  
  
And that’s that.  
  


* * *

A week before Halloween, Harry and Justin are approved for a flat in London, and Harry’s absolutely ecstatic. It’s small - or “cozy chic” as Gemma describes it - and Justin asks jokingly, “But where are we gonna put our son?”

Harry looks up from a box he’s unpacking. “We had a baby? Congratulations to us.”  
  
Justin laughs. “Our adopted son, Louis. He’s going to be sad we didn’t get a flat with a bedroom for him.”  
  
He snorts. “We can barely afford a one-bedroom, never mind a place for Lou to sleep and mooch off of us.”  
  
“You mean, we’re _not_ rolling in money off of your minimum wage internship and my shitty nursing job that pays essentially nothing?”  
  
Harry chuckles. “Be quiet and help me unload all this junk.”  
  
They work silently next to each other for a while, opening boxes and throwing away packaging materials, when Justin suddenly stops and asks, “Do you know if Louis is seeing anyone?”  
  
Harry freezes. “Um, I don’t know.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “Why? You thinking about leaving me for him?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m really into the blue eyes, you know?”  
  
He reaches into the box he’s unpacking and grabs a throw pillow, whipping it across the room at Justin. “Fuck you.”  
  
Justin laughs. “No, he’s just never mentioned it before, and he’s a catch, yeah? I actually met someone at the hospital who I think he’d really get on with.”  
  
Harry tries to ignore the pang of anger in his chest, wondering where the fuck that came from. “Maybe you should ask Louis, then.”  
  
“I will. This guy’s name is Ryan. He’s tall, funny, intelligent, really gorgeous…”  
  
“I’m sorry, are we setting up _Louis_ with Ryan or _Justin_ with Ryan?”  
  
Justin throws the pillow back at Harry. “Next time Louis’ here, which, if we’re being honest, will probably be within the next three minutes, one of us can bring it up.”  
  
Harry swallows. “Yeah. He’ll probably be here soon. I told him to come over and help unpack, since he’ll essentially be living here too.”  
  
Justin rolls his eyes. “And by ‘help unpack,’ I assume you mean, ‘sit and boss us around.’”  
  
“Basically.”  
  
“Good thing we love him.”  
  
Harry busies himself opening another box. “Yeah. Good thing.”

 

Later that night, with Louis’ feet wedged underneath Harry’s thighs on the couch (his reasoning being that the flat was too bloody cold and no one has warm enough socks), Harry brings up Ryan.  
  
“So, Justin mentioned to me earlier that he might know someone to set you up with.”  
  
Louis wiggles his toes, making Harry squirm. “Oh yeah? Who?”  
  
“His name is Ryan. He works at the hospital with Justin.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Harry shifts so Louis’ feet aren’t underneath him anymore. “That’s it?”  
  
Louis makes a face. “What else am I supposed to say? ‘Oh, golly gee, thank you for finding my Prince Charming, I can’t wait to ride him off into the sunset!’”  
  
Harry pouts, _hating_ that. “No, I just didn’t think you’d be so willing to go, is all.”  
  
He pulls his knees back, bringing them to his chest. “Why not.” He already sounds pissed.  
  
“Figured you’d wanna know a little more about him.”  
  
“Well, what the fuck do I have to lose, really.”  
  
Harry hates how defeated he sounds. “Lou…”  
  
“No,” he says, pushing himself up off the couch. “It’s all good. This is dumb. I’m going home.”  
  
Harry has _no_ idea what just happened, or how it went from zero to 100 so quickly, and Louis is out the door before he can ask.

 

  
Justin comes home from the hospital later that night, pizza box in hand, and hums, “Hi love,” pressing a kiss to the top of Harry’s head.  
  
Harry grunts back.  
  
Justin pauses. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“Ugh, nothing really,” he says, sighing. “I don’t know. I brought up Ryan to Louis and he got all bitchy and uncomfortable and… _Louis_ ,” he says, waving his hands. “And then he left.”  
  
“Hmm. A little strange, but it’s Lou. We all know he’s a bit odd when it comes to actually saying what he’s feeling, yeah?”  
  
Harry chokes out a laugh. “I’d say.”  
  
“Maybe he’s just nervous to get back into a relationship again. How long’s it been?”  
  
“Well, he’s essentially been in a relationship since he was 15. First with me for five years and then with Will directly after, so yeah, maybe he’s just feeling out of practice. This is the longest he’s been single.” Harry doesn’t realize what he’s said until he looks up at Justin, who’s staring back with the most twisted expression Harry has ever seen.  
  
“What did you just say?”  
  
Harry thinks he might be sick. “What?”  
  
“You and Louis dated. You dated for five years. You dated for five years and you never once mentioned it to me.”  
  
“Justin, it’s not a big deal.” Harry knows that’s a load of shit before he’s even done finishing his sentence.”  
  
Justin clearly agrees, based on the way he throws his head back and laughs. “You’ve _got_ to be fucking kidding me. This guy has been basically living with us for three months and I’ve never _once_ heard that you two were in a committed relationship for five years. Oh my _God_.”  
  
Harry doesn’t know how to recover from this. He knows he’s wrong, 100% wrong. “Okay, look, babe--”  
  
“No, don’t even with that shit.”  
  
His hands won’t stop shaking. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t tell you because it’s been over for so long and we haven’t had a lot of contact over the past few years so any old feelings are totally gone and we’re just really good friends now. There’s nothing between us. I didn’t want you to feel weird with the idea of my ex-boyfriend hanging around, because at this point, I don’t even think of him as that anymore.”  
  
“No, definitely not as weird as me finding out _this_ way, after I let him into our home, and left you guys to hang out alone for hours on end.”  
  
Harry freezes. Immediately, he goes from nervous to raging mad. “I hope to God you’re not implying I’m a cheater, Justin.”  
  
Justin raises an eyebrow. “I don’t really know what to think.”  
  
He clenches his jaw twice before he can relax enough to say, “I know you don’t really think that. You’re only saying it because you’re mad, and rightfully so.”  
  
Justin’s cheeks are red and his gaze is hard. Harry thinks Justin might actually hit him until he tears up, wiping them away as quickly as they appeared. “Can you just, like, leave for a while?”  
  
Harry steps forward, immediately reaching out to him, and Justin turns around. “No, Harry. I’m serious. Just get out for a while. Or I will. I don’t care. But I can’t be around you right now.”  
  
He knows not to fight this. Not right now, anyway. He drops his head and whispers, “Okay.”  
  
Harry closes the door quietly behind him, shoving his hand into his pockets, reaching for his phone. He doesn’t really know where to go now. He tries Ellis, then James, but neither pick up. And he knows he should ring Liam or Niall. Even Zayn, maybe. He dials.  
  
“What,” Louis answers through the phone, munching on something crunchy.  
  
“Lou. I’m gonna walk down to that new coffee place we tried a few days ago. Can you pick me up there?”  
  
Louis’ voice instantly changes from annoyed to worried. “Hazza, what’s wrong?”  
  
Fuck. Don’t cry. “Got into a fight with Justin. He told me to get out.” His voice cracks.  
  
“What the fuck. Why?”  
  
“Totally my fault. I’ll tell you when I see you.”  
  
And he does tell him. He slides into the car, closing his eyes the second he feels the heat from the radiator hit his face, and he unsuccessfully tries to ignore the way he can feel Louis staring at him from the driver’s seat.  
  
“Just drive, Lou.”  
  
He doesn’t ask Harry where to; he just goes. They’re in the car for about fifteen minutes before Harry starts talking.  
  
“I still hadn’t told Justin we ever dated, and I accidentally let it slip, and he wasn’t happy. But, I mean, who would be.”  
  
“Oh, Christ, Harry…”  
  
He exhales loudly. “I know. I’m wrong and I know it. I never knew when or how to bring it up, and then all of a sudden, I’d come home to you two cuddled on the couch or you meeting us for pints and it didn’t seem like a big deal anymore and I… Stopped thinking about it.”  
  
Louis merges into traffic, eyes not leaving the road. “Do you ever think about it? Us?” He doesn’t say it with any sadness or malice.  
  
Harry wrings his hands together. “Yeah. But more along the lines of how happy I am that you and Justin get on so well, whether I’m there or not, and that I’m so glad you’re in my life again.”  
  
He doesn’t respond to that. It takes him a few more turns and stops before he says, “I’m sorry about being a twat when you mentioned that guy from the hospital. It’s just really had to be around two people who are as disgustingly in love as you and Justin are and that might make me sound selfish but I’ve had that love twice and lost it twice so I’m just a little sensitive about it. I’m sorry for being so dumb. Really.”  
  
Harry turns to Louis, confused and a bit uncomfortable. He squirms in his seat. “Why are you doing this now?”  
  
“Because I can see how gone you and Justin are for each other. I’m not a threat. There _are_ no threats. And if he thinks you’re interested in anyone but him, he’s moronic.” He pauses, licking his lips. “And that’s what you need to say to Justin.”  
  
He thinks for a moment. “Maybe you should.”  
  
Louis laughs. “Don’t be a pussy. He’s not my boyfriend. It’s not my fight.”  
  
“No, ‘m serious. It might be different coming from you.”  
  
“You’re insane.”  
  
“Louis. Please? Justin listens to you and respects you and it might be better coming from you. He’s really upset with me. Not you.” Louis is still giving him a wary look, so Harry sighs. “Fine. You’re right. It’s my fight.”  
  
“Ugh, I’ll do it. Just… Enough with the piss face, I can’t take it.”

 

  
Harry paces the hallway for a long time, waiting for Louis and Justin to finish their conversation. He feels like he’s been waiting for an eternity, occasionally pressing his ear up to the door, unable to hear anything.  
  
Louis eventually pushes the door open, closing it behind him, and smiles. “It’s not all fixed, but it’s a bit better. You were right. Justin listens to me because he loves me best.” He yawns. “I’m probably gonna hang low for a while, yeah? Go back home and keep my distance. I’ll be back. I know you’d miss me too much.”  
  
Harry smiles shyly, dropping his chin to his chest. “I would. Thank you, Lou.”  
  
“Don’t be an arsehole anymore.”  
  
“Sound advice.” He looks up at Louis, and Louis blinks slowly. They both lean in for a hug at the same time, Louis’ chin hooking over Harry’s shoulder, reaching on his tip toes. Harry grips tightly, feeling relieved for the first time in hours.  
  
If he’s being honest, in months.

 

  
Harry is sat opposite from Justin on the couch, letting Justin talk. He listens quietly as Justin goes over his chat with Louis, his attention never wavering.

“I know you didn’t cheat on me, and I know you would never,” he says, not able to make eye contact with Harry. “I just freaked. And I think I had that right, yeah?”  
Harry nods. “Absolutely.”  
  
“You were hiding this major thing from me. You bring this guy to our home and I immediately get on with him so well and I’m struggling because I feel like you both lied to me from the start. Which you did. Louis, too.”  
  
He nods again. “We did. And I feel like shit.”  
  
“You should. But…” He looks at Harry, finally. “Louis told me that he’s known you since you were seven years old. You were best friends for years, you dated when you were 15, and here we all are, in our early 20’s and you’re still in each other’s lives. He wasn’t saying it to brag, or to act like a threat. He was saying it to prove that he knows you, so that I should believe him when he says he’s never seen you look at anyone the way you look at me.”  
  
Harry feels like he could cry. “He said that?”  
  
Justin nods. “He did. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Louis serious. And I believe him.” He slides across the couch to Harry and drops his head to Harry’s shoulder. “I’m still angry. But I love you and we have this tiny little flat and we’re starting our lives together and this’ll pass.”  
  
Harry feels like he can’t breathe. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“I know. No more lies.  
  
“No more lies.”

 

  
Later that night, with Justin pressing Harry into their mattress, Harry arching his back, Justin tells him how much he loves him. Harry whispers the same words back, but all he can think of is _He’s never seen you look at anyone the way you look at me._

He figures now is not the time to bring up how _that_ is a lie, too.  
  


* * *

Things to go back to normal impressively quickly. Harry and Justin throw a Halloween party, filled to the brim with old and new friends, tons of costumes, and a nearly endless supply of alcohol. Harry doesn’t mention the fact that Louis’ not present. Justin, however, does.

“Okay, I hate this,” he drunkenly slurs to Harry around midnight. “I hate that our noisy son isn’t here.”  
  
Harry hiccups. “Our noisy son?”  
  
“Our Louis. He hasn’t been here in like…” He counts the days off on his fingers slowly. “Like, five days. That’s too long.”  
  
He smiles. “I know.”  
  
“Can you call him?”  
  
“‘m not sure I remember how to use a phone,” he says frowning.  
  
“Gimme. I’ll do it,” Justin demands, reaching into Harry’s back pocket. After 30 seconds of ringing, Justin grumbles, “He’s not answering. Who does he think he is?” The tone for the voicemail must go off, because he nearly shrieks into the phone, “You’re not answering! Who do you think you are?!” He giggles and Harry rests his head on Justin’s shoulder, desperate for balance, much too dizzy. “Lou, we miss you. Well, I don’t know if Harry does. But _I_ do. Come home soon.”

 

Louis doesn’t call back, but he _does_ wake them both up the next morning by jumping on the bed and ripping the covers off of them.  
  
“I take it back,” Harry groans. “No one here missed you.”  
  
“You did!” Louis yells. “Justin called me and left me proof and you can’t say otherwise!”  
  
If Harry’s head wasn’t pounding so hard, he would laugh at the look on Justin’s face. “Mate, get the fuck off my bed. I’m so hungover, I might vomit all over you. And I won’t even care.”  
  
Louis laughs maniacally. “Get up and feed me.”  
  
Justin rolls over and pulls the duvet up above his head. “Harry,” he mumbles. “Your turn to take care of the baby.”  
  
Harry rolls his eyes. “Up, Tommo.”  
  
Louis grins. “I win.”  
  
Harry follows him into the kitchen, stretching and groaning, wondering why he missed him in the first place. But then Louis comes up behind him and wraps him in a hug, squishing his cheek against Harry’s bare back.  
  
“Brought you some tea,” he says. “Justin, too.”

 

Ah. That’s why.  
  


* * *

Harry and Justin’s across-the-hall neighbour is apparently leaving for a 2-week long business trip, and she _desperately_ needs someone to watch her puppy, Jack, while she’s gone. Or, at least, this is what Harry can make out from her hastily scribbled note that was shoved under their front door.

Justin leans over Harry’s shoulder to read the note. “Wait. Who?”  
  
Harry waves the paper around. “Summer, I guess.”  
  
“Summer who?”  
  
“Summer… and Jack.”  
  
Justin snorts. “Have we ever met Summer? Or Jack?”  
  
Harry hums. “Not that I can recall.”  
  
“And you’re just going to willingly watch her dog and flat for two weeks.”  
  
“No, I’m not. _We_ are.”  
  
“Whoa, I don’t think so,” Justin says, laughing. “I want no part in this. Puppies are exhausting. And she’s a stranger.”  
  
Harry folds up the note and makes his way to their front door. “Not anymore, she isn’t.”

 

  
Summer is harmless, Harry finds out. She’s just new to the area and doesn’t know anyone local to watch her fur baby.  
  
“I tried to get out of this fucking business trip, I swear, and I hate to ask this of you, but I don’t have many options.” She’s distraught, clearly, and before Harry can agree to help, she keeps on going. “I’ll pay you! And you can use whatever you’d like! Make yourself at home, and invite whoever you want to stay with you here. Jack is easy, too, I promise!”  
  
Harry has to hold back his laugh. “Summer, I’ll do it. It’s really no worry. I love puppies. I mean, who doesn’t love puppies?”  
  
He momentarily thinks she might cry, or leap into his arms. “You have no idea how much I appreciate this. Is there anything I can do for you, to repay you?”  
  
The word _no_ is about to roll off his tongue, but he suddenly has an idea. If Justin isn’t willing to help, maybe someone else will. “Do you happen to have the film _Grease_?”  
  
  


Harry lures Louis into Summer’s flat with the promise of a newly purchased copy of _Grease_ \- Louis’ forever favourite film - pizza, drinks, and an adorable puppy with two different coloured eyes, all courtesy of Summer.  
  
“Hazza, you didn’t have to bribe me with all this shit. I would have come with the promise of a dog, nothing else,” he says, Jack wedged between his legs, rubbing behind his ears.  
  
Harry smirks. “I can see that.”  
  
“I think I might have to keep him. Don’t tell Summer.”  
  
“She would probably be able to narrow down who kidnapped her dog, based on the fact that I’m the only one who has a copy of her key.”  
  
“Shut up. Jack is mine.”  
  
He tries and fails to hold back his smile. “Okay.”

 

For two weeks, Harry and Louis essentially move into across-the-hall neighbour Summer’s flat, taking turns caring for Jack, cleaning, collecting her post, and making sure the home is kept in better than pristine condition for her return.  
  
On night 13, Harry is washing dishes at the sink, and Louis is outside with Jack, throwing a tennis ball down the length of the yard, telling Harry the plan is to “wear their baby out.”  
  
Zayn is sat on the couch, flipping through channels on the telly, when he suddenly says, “Harry, I have a question.”  
  
Harry continues to scrub at the pan that has last night’s pasta stuck to the bottom of it. Louis called it the best dinner he’d ever had, followed by, _If you let that compliment go to your head, I’ll punch you in the throat._ “What’s up?”  
  
Zayn clears his throat. “It’s a bit weird that you two are playing house, yeah? Especially since Justin is across the hall.”  
  
He furrows his brows, and scrubs harder. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
  
And as if Zayn planned it himself, Louis calls up to the window, “Honey, we don’t forget we’re out of Coco Pops.”  
  
Harry pulls his gloves up higher, and dunks them back into the soapy water. “Got it,” he yells back.  
  
Zayn raises an eyebrow. “You’re kidding me, right?”  
  
“We’re not playing house. I have my own house, remember?”  
  
He shrugs. “Okedoke.”  
  
Harry turns the hot water up as high as it’ll go. “Shut up, Malik.”  
  


* * *

Harry’s internship flies by; he spends nearly all his of time at the secondary school, teaching English, learning how to lead his own classroom, and it’s exciting. Justin’s in the same boat, racking up countless hours at the hospital, coming home most nights with stories that start with, “You’ll never guess what gross thing happened today at work.” They’re both kept very busy, and though it’s exhausting, it’s exhilarating to be immersed in things they’re both so passionate about.

It dawns on Harry one night while he’s squished on his couch between James, Louis, and Zayn that he hasn’t spent one-on-one time with Justin in weeks. Months, even. They’d had a lovely dinner on Valentine’s Day, and since then, they haven’t done a single thing together. Not even for their anniversary in the early spring. Justin had been called into work, and he’d promised they’d reschedule. Harry truly hadn’t minded, and simply forgot about making another date out of it for their next free weekend. Justin didn’t seem to care much, either. He doesn’t know which is worse: that they never had their anniversary dinner, or that he eventually forgot about it with no hard feelings.  
  
He rests his head on James’ shoulder. “James.”  
  
“Shh. We’re watching a film.”  
  
“I know. _James_ ,” he whines.  
  
“What did I just say?”  
  
Harry pouts. “My, you’re grouchy.”  
  
“You’re damn right. _Shh_.”  
  
He sighs, and tries the boy to his right. “Lou.”  
  
“Do you really think you’d get a reaction out of me if you couldn’t get one out of James?”  
  
True. “Fine.”  
  
Next to Louis, Zayn huffs out a laugh. “Poor Harry, no one will pay attention to him.”  
  
“But _you_ will, because _you_ love me.”  
  
He scoffs. “Not sure about that one, babe.”  
  
Rude. “ _Zayn_.”  
  
“Up, before James and Louis suffocate you.”  
  
James snorts. “Pretty fair accusation.”  
  
Harry and Zayn stand up, Louis graciously tripping them each only once on their way past the couch, and they proceed to the kitchen. Harry taps his fingers on the countertop. “Okay,” he starts. “I think I just need someone else’s opinion. I should have thought of you first, actually. You’re the best with this kind of shit.”  
Zayn smirks. “I think that’s a compliment.”  
  
“It is.” He turns around to look at Louis and James in the other room, both miraculously still focused on the telly. He looks back at Zayn. “When was the last time you hung out with Justin?” he asks.  
  
Zayn shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe last weekend?”  
  
“Probably. I was at my mum’s. I hadn’t been home to see her in a while.”  
  
“Makes sense.”  
  
Harry idly scratches at the tile on the countertop. “When was the last time you hung out with me _and_ Justin?”  
  
“Hmm.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I’m not sure, now that you mention it.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“What are you getting at, Haz?”  
  
“I don’t think I have a boyfriend anymore. I think I have a flatmate.”  
  
Zayn clears his throat. “How long have you been thinking that?”  
  
“I dunno. A month, maybe? I usually only see him right before bed, and even that doesn’t always happen.” He looks back to the couch again. Sometime in the past three minutes, Louis has managed to situate himself directly on top of James. Harry smiles and turns back to Zayn. “I think the main issue is that I’m not all that bothered that I haven’t spent any major time with him in months. I should be bothered, yeah?”  
  
Zayn puts his elbows on the counter. “I would say so. It’s okay to fall out of love with someone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”  
  
Harry hums. “I do love Justin. We’ve been together for so long and we have this life together and I don’t know…”  
  
“Those aren’t really solid reasons to keep a relationship going, Harry.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
Neither of them say anything for a bit. Zayn looks over Harry’s shoulder, and Harry knows he’s watching Louis and James by the way his lips quirk up into a fond smile. “Do you think any of this has to do with a certain someone in the other room?”  
  
Harry stands up straighter at that. “What does that mean?”  
  
“Come on, Harry.”  
  
“Come on _what_?”  
  
Zayn rolls his eyes. “I don’t expect you to ever get your head out of your arse and admit it, but it’s clear that Louis has a crush. And _I_ know it’s mutual. Even if you don’t know that yet. Even if Louis doesn’t know it yet, either.”  
  
Harry has suspected for about a month or two that Louis has been interested in him as more than a friend. It hit him one night when they were sat on the couch eating pizza, watching Friends, and he realized Louis was extra grabby, extra loud, extra clingy. It reminded Harry of the way they used to be in high school, right before they ever started dating, both too afraid to say something or make the first move. And when Harry started to fall asleep, he placed his head on Louis’ chest, nearly bursting out into laughter when he could hear how quickly Louis’ heart was beating. But he still hasn’t said anything. He assumes Louis has some unresolved feelings from before, but he doesn’t want to make anything awkward. Especially since he doesn’t know how he feels about that himself. _Especially_ since he’s still in a committed relationship to his boyfriend.  
  
Rather than say all of that to Zayn, he immediately goes on the attack. “Zayn, it’s not my fucking fault he has a crush on me. Don’t make me feel fucking bad for it!”  
Zayn’s eyes go wide, sparkling with humor. “Whoa, I don’t think I said anything that would make you feel bad for it. I think you’re doing that all on your own, yeah?”  
“‘m not doing anything!”  
  
“Harry, it’s doesn’t make you a bad person for wanting someone outside your relationship, as long as you don’t act on it before you take care of the relationship you have going on now.”  
  
“Enough, Zayn! It’s nothing!”  
  
Zayn breaks out into a grin, and Harry wants to smack his perfect face. “If this was just a random guy who you didn’t have any feelings for, you wouldn’t be so defensive. And you wouldn’t be trying to push me out the door right now.” Harry didn’t even realize he was gathering Zayn’s things in his arms until Zayn pointed it out. “It’s not just a random guy, Harry.”  
  
“No, it’s not just a random guy, it’s my best friend Louis. And that’s it. It’s enough. Drop it. Just fucking drop it.”  
  
“Okay, then,” Zayn says, ripping his belongings out of Harry’s arms, still smiling. “Consider it dropped.”

 

A week later, Louis is running around Harry and Justin’s flat, totally pissed off his arse, throwing pieces of popcorn and M&M’s at Harry. Harry is doubled over in laughter, even more so when Louis trips and knocks into Harry, both of them tumbling to the floor. From above Harry, Louis kisses him stupidly on the tip of his nose before he clambers off, shrieking and sliding around once more. Harry doesn’t get up from off the floor, and all he can think of is _I don’t think I will ever be able to drop this.  
  
_

* * *

They’re about midway through June when Harry’s internship finishes up, and he starts actively applying for jobs around London. He doesn’t have a lot of luck off the bat, though, so he spends the majority of his time in his flat, doing… Nothing, really.

Louis stops by less and less due to his own new career, and Harry _hates_ it. He has become such a prominent figure in his life again, so when he’s not there, it’s painfully obvious. He often finds himself reaching for his phone to tell Louis useless tidbits about his day, pouting when Louis can’t answer him right away, busy with his job.  
  
He’s sat on the couch, fiddling with his annoyingly silent phone early one evening when Harry hears the door knob to the flat jiggling. He waits for the telltale sign of the key, but it doesn’t come. Then, a bang from the other side of the door. Harry leaps to his feet, expecting to see Louis standing in the hallway, and he can’t help the way his face falls when he sees it’s Justin.  
  
“Sorry,” Justin says. “I must’ve forgotten my key here this morning.”  
  
Harry shrugs. “It’s fine.”  
  
Justin walks into the kitchen, setting down his bag, and looks at Harry. “Were you expecting someone?”  
  
He shakes his head. “Nope. Why?”  
  
“Dunno. Just seemed like you were waiting to see somebody else.”  
  
“No. Just you.”  
  
Justin nods. “Anyway. I left the rent on the counter.”  
  
“Yeah, I got it.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Neither of them say anything. Harry suddenly feels uncomfortable in his own home, standing next to his boyfriend of over two years. Justin gives a forced smile and saunters off to the bedroom. Harry doesn’t see him for the rest of the night.  
  
When he slides into bed next to him hours later, Justin is already sound asleep. Harry doesn’t curl himself around Justin like he has throughout the rest of their relationship. He keeps himself on the edge of the mattress, his heart heavy, wondering if this can be salvaged, if this can be fixed.  
But the thing is… He doesn’t _want_ to fix it. The only thing he wants is the boy with blue eyes, the larger than life personality, and the crinkly-eyed smile that makes Harry’s palms sweaty. That’s when he knows.  
  
It's a slow build, Harry thinks, realizing he's in love with Louis again, but it hits him all at once. When he was younger, he knew from the very start he was head over heels for Louis, and it only intensified from there. This time around, the fire inside him is dim, glowing faintly, and it's just barely lit, enough for him to notice from time to time. Sometimes, he’s able to push it out of his mind. In the end, though, the fire is bright and blinding, absolutely hot and burning to touch, and it engulfs him. It's impossible for Harry to pretend he doesn't know, impossible to ignore, not when Louis is the one keeping him so warm.

 

  
When he tells Justin it’s over three days later, he doesn’t bring up Louis. He doesn’t have to.  
  
Justin knows, too.

\---

Harry shows up at Louis’ flat a few nights later at half one in the morning. Louis is still awake, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, oversized jumper nearly swallowing him whole from where he’s perched on his worn couch. Harry’s nearly vibrating with how badly he wants to kiss him, finally allowing those thoughts to break to the surface, relief and suffocation all wrapped into one.  
  
He’d texted Louis the night it happened, telling him that he and Justin had broken up, and Louis responded with _Aw, I’m so sorry, love_. He didn’t ask what happened, and Harry was grateful for that. Now, sitting next to Louis in the glow of the telly, he _needs_ Louis to ask. He needs to spill his guts, get it off his chest, and never look back.  
  
Louis turns down the volume and huffs out a sigh. “Okay, Styles, get the wounded puppy look off your face. Did Justin do it or did you?”  
  
“I did it.”  
  
“Do I have to pick between you two? Like the divorce of my gay dads?”  
  
Harry snorts. “No, you can still hang out with Justin.”  
  
“Oh. This is awkward. I was going to pick Justin, anyway.”  
  
“Fuck you.”  
  
Louis smirks. “But really. What happened?”  
  
“You can’t pretend you haven’t noticed how off we’ve been for the past few months.”  
  
Louis’ smile fades. “Yeah. I’ve noticed.”  
  
Harry sinks into the couch further. “It’s been building for a long time, I think. I was busy at work and he’s always working, too, and it eventually just turned into… Friends who have sex sometimes.” Louis cringes. Harry pretends not to notice. “And I dunno. Here we are.”  
  
“Are you okay, though? Two years is a significant period of time, and you live together, yeah?”  
  
Harry fingers the blanket on the back of the couch. “I’m okay. Don’t wanna cry anymore. I feel like that’s all I’ve been doing for the past 48 hours straight.”  
  
Louis frowns and slides over to Harry. He drops his head onto Harry’s lap, and it’s strangely comforting. He put his fingers in Louis’ hair, dragging his touch slowly across his skull. Louis shivers.  
  
“Who’s keeping the flat?” Louis mumbles, almost in a trance of sorts.  
  
Harry groans. “Ugh, I don’t know. We haven’t really talked about it yet, but I think I’m gonna let him keep it. It’s a block away from the hospital and it’s under his name, anyway. Just seems to make more sense.”  
  
“Mmm. Where are you gonna go, then, love?”  
  
Harry swallows. “No idea. Niall mentioned he might need a new place - something about his landlord being a shithead - so I could ask him.”  
  
Louis nods. It feels more like nuzzling. Harry’s jaw clenches. “Or you could… Uh.”  
  
“I could what?”  
  
“You could move in here. With me.”  
  
Harry stops petting Louis. “Wait, really?”  
  
Louis sits up. “Yeah, I mean, you can’t be homeless until you find a flatmate, and you can’t be living with your ex. I have the space.” It’s true, he does. “Unless you think that’s totally stupid. I can help you look for a flat, if you want.” He’s nervous, and Harry is so fucking endeared.  
  
He knows that would be the worst idea. Louis has been staring at Harry for the past eight weeks like he wants to devour him, and Harry isn’t much better off. He feels like can hardly breathe whenever he catches himself staring at Louis’ lips, which is a _lot_. Moving in together would be a recipe for disaster, and Harry is fully aware of that.  
  
“Yeah, Lou, I want to move in with you.”

  
  


He tells Justin the next morning he’s leaving, and he hates the way his heart hurts when he says it. He hates the look Justin gives him even more.  
  
Louis stops by when Justin goes to work and quickly helps Harry gather his things, leaving behind most of the furniture. “I mean, it wouldn’t be fair for you to break up with him and then take all his shit with you, yeah? Especially when I have all of this stuff at my flat, anyway,” Louis reasons.  
  
Harry agrees. “Lou, you know it’s okay to still be friends with him, right? He loves you and I’m sure once the awkwardness is over, Justin and I will be friends again, too.”  
  
“Okay.”

Harry hoists a box over his shoulder, Louis stepping into the hallway, and Harry closes the door behind him. It’s the last time either of them step inside that flat.  
  


* * *

Somewhere deep inside Harry’s mind, he figured the moment he moved in with Louis, they would start shagging. And he wants it. He wants to press Louis up against every wall, surface, every fucking inch of their shared flat, screwing into him the same way they used to do when they were younger. He wants it so bad, he’s nearly shaking with it.

And apparently, it’s one sided.  
  
Harry’s so frustrated, sexually and otherwise. How did he misread all of Louis’ flirting for weeks and weeks on end? He wants to punch himself in the face, and then Zayn, because he was wrong, too.  
  
Fucking Zayn.  
  
He’s laying in bed half 11 one night, his hand shoved into his pants, stroking roughly, the drag bordering on painful, but he doesn’t care. He bites at his bottom lip, trying to stifle his moaning and he’s fairly unsuccessful. All he can focus on is the way Louis’ arse looks in joggers in the morning, the way he feels when they’re wrapped together on the couch, the way his eyes roll to the back of his head when Harry’s really giving it to him… Would he still do that? Harry pulls harder. He has to find out.  
  
The heat in the pit of his belly grows warmer and he moves his fist faster. Fuck, it would feel so good to sink into Louis again, watching his cock slide in and out, Louis whimpering and arching into Harry from underneath. Christ.  
  
It doesn’t take much more than that to spill over his fist, his chest heaving.  
  
He squeezes his eyes shut. “You are _so_ fucked,” he mumbles to himself, reaching for a tissue on the bedside table. “So _fucking_ fucked.”  
  


* * *

Summer ends as quickly as it began, and autumn approaches, bringing cooler breezes and rainy days. Harry lands a substitute teaching position, starting at the end of September. It gives him something to do, something to focus on other than Louis.

For the most part.  
  
Harry accepts that this is his fate, jerking off to the thought of Louis for the rest of his life. Louis’ flirting seems to have gone down substantially now that they’re living together, and Harry doesn’t know how this happened. Somehow, in the past few months, he’s lived with two men, both of whom he’d fallen in love with, and both men managed to turned into _just_ flatmates. _How_.

 

He’s sat on his bed after dinner on a Wednesday night, papers strewn across his bed, pen between his lips, when Louis slams his door open. It’s not unusual, so Harry barely looks up.  
  
“Harry.”  
  
“Mmm.” He still doesn’t give Louis a glance, trying to finish marking this particularly bad paper.  
  
“ _Harry_.”  
  
He sighs. “ _What_ , Lou?” Louis hasn’t made it past the doorframe, his hands in his pockets. He’s bouncing, almost, and he’s weirdly quiet. That grabs Harry’s attention. “You okay?”  
  
“No, not, no,” Louis stutters out.  
  
Harry pushes some papers aside and gestures to the bed. “Do you wanna sit?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Alright.”  
  
Louis keeps bouncing. “Okay, I’m just gonna say it. Okay.” He doesn’t speak after that.  
  
Harry has absolutely no idea what he’s trying to spit out, so he looks back down at his work. “Whenever you’re ready, yeah?” He picks up his pen and starts underlining another sentence in red ink.  
  
“I fucked it all up when I broke up with you,” Louis starts. Harry’s head snaps up so quickly, he thinks he may have broken his neck. “I had all this ridiculous fear in my head that I wasn’t good enough for you and I panicked and ended it, before you could do it first. I didn’t wanna get hurt, but _fuck_ if I thought beating you to the punch would make it easier somehow. You're really intense, Harry, and I let it get to me.” He stops to exhale loudly. “But Jesus, every damn day of my life I regretted it, even when I didn’t love you, or rather, when I thought I didn’t love you, and I’m not one to stand here and profess my love but _Harry_ , I’m standing here, professing my love, bloody hell.” Harry feels like he’s on fire. He absolutely cannot move. “I've been trying to distance myself but it's actually impossible and now I know that if I never said something, I would have regretted it more than letting you go. I just had to try, yeah? But if all of this is one sided, then I'm just gonna go light myself on fire, especially since we live together and this could potentially be so awkward and you’re my best friend.” Louis finishes his run-on sentence with a deep breath, his hands shaking. Harry could almost laugh, but Louis looks so tiny, so timid, and Harry thinks his heart might burst out of his chest. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” Louis mutters, his cheeks bright red.  
  
Harry climbs off the bed as quickly as his legs will allow him to. The look on Louis’ face is pure panic, and Harry needs to wipe it off immediately. He crowds Louis up against the wall and Louis goes easily, his breathing rapid. Harry can’t stop staring at his lips. “I don't understand how you can't know,” he murmurs.  
  
“Harry…”  
  
He’s nervous, and he knows Louis is, too. It reminds him of the very first time they kissed when they were 15. Both of them are different now, both have longer hair, tattoos, university degrees, secrets, stories, and memories. But somehow, it’s the same.  
  
He leans in slowly, his arms hanging uselessly by his side and Louis’ breath hitches in his throat just before Harry’s lips graze his. When they finally touch, Harry feels helpless. He wants to pull Louis into him as close as he can. So he does. He deepens the kiss, tongue sliding into Louis’ mouth and Louis moans quietly. It sounds better than Harry remembers, and he can’t help himself when he slides his hand up into Louis’ hair, pushing the length of his body up against Louis’, feeling Louis grab at his back. They stand there kissing, reintroducing their bodies for what feels like a small eternity, but when Louis pulls back, it suddenly doesn’t feel like long enough. Harry chases his lips, resting his forehead against Louis’ when he realizes Louis wants to speak.  
  
“Harry, I just…” Louis looks everywhere except for Harry’s face, unable to meet his gaze. “I need to make sure this isn’t, like, a remaining sexual tension thing from when we were younger. Because that’s not what it is for me.” Harry knows how hard it is for Louis to say that, but is absolutely flabbergasted that Louis doesn’t _get it_ , that he doesn’t know how gone Harry is for him. He thought it went without saying. He kisses him again, because he can’t help it, and it’s slow and unrushed, the complete opposite of how he always imagined it would be if and when they reunited.  
  
He runs his tongue over Louis’ bottom lip and drops his forehead to Louis’ again, pressing in close. He knows these aren’t old feelings resurfacing; he’s meant to fall in love with every version of Louis every time they come together, over and over again. And Louis needs to know that. “Louis, if I was meeting you for the first time today, no history between us, I know that I would still be completely infatuated with you.”  
  
Louis rolls his eyes, but Harry can hear the tremor in his voice. “Don’t say shit like that if you don’t mean it.”  
  
Harry shakes his head. “Wouldn’t lie to you.”  
  
Louis leans up to kiss him again, and Harry goes willingly. He snakes his arms around Louis’ body, feeling his heart beating against his own chest, and Louis tastes so _good_. He can’t keep doing this, though, can’t press Louis up against his own body, with the intention of not having it go beyond this.  
  
“Louis,” he nearly whines. “If you want to take this slow, you’re gonna have to stop doing _that_ ,” he says, gesturing to the way Louis keeps angling his hips into Harry’s.  
  
“No, no, no,” Louis murmurs, pushing his hips harder into Harry’s. Harry groans. “No, you’re gonna fuck me. Been thinking about it for days. Well, weeks. Okay, if we’re being honest, probably years.”  
  
The ache in Harry’s chest eases. “Years, yeah.” It’s not exactly a complete thought, but Louis seems to get it. He grabs Louis’ hips and starts walking backward, the back of his knees hitting the mattress shortly after, and he pulls Louis down on top of him, still kissing, messy and fervent. It’s all so familiar, everything reminding him of the night they lost their virginities to each other, and every other time after that. But at the same time, the way Louis is kissing his neck, the way he’s rutting his hips down to meet Harry’s… It feels too foreign for Harry’s liking. He wants to get to know every inch of Louis all over again.  
  
He sits up on the bed, pushing his students’ papers off the bed, and yanks Louis’ shirt up over his head, desperate to get his mouth Louis’ neck, chest, nipples, stomach. Louis’ already scrambling underneath Harry’s touch, and _this_ is what Harry imagined every time he thought about being with Louis again: quick, sloppy, too much, not enough.  
  
Louis shoves Harry back down again and straddles his lap, grinding himself downward, and Harry can’t hold back the moan that escapes him. Louis bites at his own bottom lip, eyes already wide and bright, and Harry needs more.  
  
He flips Louis underneath him, no preamble, with absolutely no time for talking. He unzips and pulls down Louis’ pants, Louis’ hands frantic at Harry’s own button.  
“Come on, Hazza,” Louis grunts, frustrated, his hands trembling.  
  
Harry shrugs out of his pants, cock fully hard and springing free, and Louis immediately puts his hand on it, stroking harshly. Harry lets out a hiss, not even bothered that the drag is rough. He has Louis’ hands on him again for the first time in years, and if he thinks about it too much, this will all be over before it even begins.  
  
After more twisting and resituating, Harry gets Louis completely naked and whining underneath him. Harry’s working his fingers into Louis, mouthing at his cock, and Louis is borderline incoherent. He sounds so good. He looks even better.  
  
By the time Louis is opened up enough and Harry is slicked up with lube, he’s almost screaming with how badly he wants to be inside of Louis. Louis is on his back, looking up at Harry, eyes blazing.  
  
“Fuck me, fuck me, need you, come _on_ ,” he chants, hands gripping Harry’s biceps.  
  
Harry groans and pushes himself inside in one fluid motion, immediately working up a steady rhythm, and he’s in disbelief that he went without _this_ for so fucking long. Louis’ moans are outrageous, his back arching, his hips trying desperately to match Harry’s thrusts. He keeps moving, keeps pumping into Louis at a relentless pace, mumbling nonsense that he’s been thinking for the past year or so.  
  
“Louis, you feel so fucking good, so fucking tight around me, do you know how much I’ve thought about this? Fuck, you drive me absolutely wild,” he says truthfully, his secrets spilling out without his permission. He dips down to kiss Louis, all tongues and teeth. “Always dreamed about getting you underneath me again, you’re so perfect, you’re _mine_.”  
  
Louis nearly sobs at that, wrapping himself around Harry tighter, and his voice is soft, yet high pitched when he says through several choppy breaths, “Always been yours. Always, always. Feels so good, Harry. Jesus _Christ_.”  
  
Harry’s at a loss for words as he keeps his thrusts steady and even, hard and deep. He looks down at Louis, and he’s _smirking_.  
  
“What are you making that face for?” Harry manages to ask in between each punch of his hips.  
  
Louis’ lips quirk up into a bright smile, a hilarious contrast to the way he can't stop moaning. “You always get this super intense look on your face when you’re fucking me and I hate it.”  
  
Harry snorts and hoists Louis’ hips up higher. “You remember my ‘fucking Louis’ face?”  
  
“Couldn’t forget it if I tried. And believe me, I tried a _lot_.”  
  
Harry groans at that, and pushes in as deep as he can physically go.  
  
Louis is steadily leaking precome, twitching under Harry’s touch every time he brushes against Louis’ prostate, and when Louis’ breathing hitches, Harry knows he’s close. He fucks into him harder, needs him to come with Harry’s name on his lips, just so Harry knows this is real, that this isn’t his recurring dream.  
  
Harry’s orgasm hits just moments before Louis’ does, and they grip onto one another like a lifeline, anchoring each other, just like they were always meant to do.

 

Harry wakes up in the middle of the night, momentarily confused as to why he has Louis in his bed. But then he _remembers_ , remembers the way Louis shook in his arms, tears in his eyes as he came, looking at Harry with such an intensity, Harry felt like he could choke.  
  
He feels lucky, so, _so_ lucky, being able to have Louis like this again. His chest is rising and falling steadily, the rest of his body completely still, deep in sleep, and Harry can’t believe how beautiful he is, after all these years.  
  
He’s fallen in love with his best friend - _twice_ now - and he knows he isn’t meant to be with anyone else. Louis is his family, his home. End of story.  
  
Harry shuffles in closer to Louis, pulling him against his bare chest, and Louis hums in his sleep before going silent and pliant again. He kisses the top of Louis’ head, willing his own eyes to shut once more.  
  


He only has one life to fiercely love someone, and he knows that someone is Louis. He’s not taking that for granted.  
  


 

  
A week later, they’re laying in Louis’ bed, sheets pooling around their hips, naked underneath. Harry’s gently scratching his fingers along Louis’ spine and Louis sighs, burrowing himself deeper into Harry’s arms. Suddenly, Harry has to know.  
  
“Lou?”  
  
“Don’t stop scratching. Feels nice.”  
  
Harry smiles. “Not gonna stop.” He twists his head to kiss Louis on the lips, softly but deeply.  
  
Louis pulls away and makes a face. “Your breath is terrible.”  
  
Harry barks out a laugh. “Can I please talk?”  
  
“As long as it’s not directly into my mouth.”  
  
Harry rolls his eyes and blows hot air into Louis’ face. Louis pretends to gag. “I have a question.”  
  
Louis hums. “Won’t be able to answer it if you keep it in _here_ ,” he says, tapping Harry’s temple.  
  
He clears his throat. “Okay. Remember when Justin and I got into that fight when I accidentally told him that we’d dated?”  
  
Louis looks up at Harry. “Yes.”  
  
“Justin told me about your conversation.”  
  
Louis shrugs. “I assumed he would. Harry, it’s been almost a year since then, what are you going on about?”  
  
“You told him that he had nothing to worry about when it came to me and you,” Harry whispers against Louis’ shoulder, “and you could tell how much I loved him because I’d never looked at anyone the way I looked at him. Lou, I need to make sure you know how crazy I am about you. I was then, too. I just… You know how I feel about you, yeah?”  
  
Louis’ eyes are almost watery when Harry looks down at him. “Yeah, I know.”  
  
“Did you know then?”  
  
“As far as I knew, you were all in with Justin. And I was trying to move past it, I guess. I think I told Justin that to help me get my own peace of mind. The more times I said out loud that you were in love with someone else, the easier it was for me to convince myself that we weren’t ever going to be together again.” He stops to clear his throat. “I didn’t want to remember that you used to look at me like that, too.”  
  
Harry _needs_ Louis to understand, _needs_ him to get it. He’s nearly shaking with it. “I’m in love with you again, Louis. Or still, maybe. I’m not sure. But I _am_ sure that you’re the only one I’m going to be looking at for the rest of my life, or for as long as you’ll have me.”  
  
Louis’ eyes are _definitely_ watery now. “I love you, too,” he says simply, lacing their hands together. It’s the first time they've said those words to each other since they were 19, and Harry’s heart feels like it’s lodged in his throat.  
  
Harry drags him into another kiss, taking his time, tongue sweeping against the roof of Louis’ mouth, and he whimpers quietly, pulling Harry flush against him.  
Louis pulls back, tears threatening to spill over, and he whispers, “Your breath is still bad.”  
  
Harry throws his head back and laughs. “I tell you I’m in love with you, and that’s what you have to say?”  
  
“I told you I love you too, what more do you want?”  
  
He smiles. “Absolutely nothing.” He ducks down to kiss him again, Louis lets him, and it’s more than enough.  
  


* * *

Harry is 100% certain that Louis is going to say yes to his proposal, no doubt in his mind. Louis loves Harry so much - he isn’t worried about that detail at all - and Harry has the entire thing worked down to _science_. There’s no way it can go wrong. By the end of the day, Louis will be wearing the engagement ring he spent _months_ choosing specifically for him, and he’ll have a fiancé. He’s so excited, he thinks he could scream.

But that doesn’t mean he’s not nervous. Actually, he feels like he’s coming out of his skin.  
  
He has no reason to be afraid, logically. Harry and Louis talk about marriage often enough, seeing as they’ve been reunited for about four years now, and they recently purchased their first home together. Christ, they even talk about their future _kids_ ’ names. Harry knows that they’re both in this for life.  
  
That doesn’t mean he can stop himself from dry heaving into the toilet.  
  
“Fucking get it together, Styles,” he mumbles to himself, getting up off the cold, tiled floor from next to the shower.  
  
He makes his way to the kitchen, shrugging into his winter coat, patting the pocket to make sure the ring is still safely inside. He feels the outline of the box, and he lets out a sigh of relief.  
  
Louis looks up from his spot at the kitchen table, cup of tea in hand. “You ready?”  
  
Harry smiles, trying not to appear too off balance. Louis doesn’t seem to notice. “Yeah, baby, let’s go get our Christmas tree.”

 

They make their way to a Christmas tree farm down the road from their home. Families and couples alike flood the outdoor space, picking Christmas trees to chop down and bring home to decorate for the holidays. And in Harry’s mind, this proposal will be _beautiful_. He’ll grab Louis’ hand and together, they’ll weave in and out of trees, the snow gently falling around them. He’ll guide Louis to a tree on the edge of the property, secluded and away from the rest of the people, and while Louis is meticulously inspecting the fern, Harry will drop down to one knee and tell Louis how in love with him he is. Louis will cry even though he’ll pretend he isn’t, and he’ll shriek yes, launching himself at Harry.  
  
It’s simple. It’s Louis’ favourite time of year, it isn’t flashy, and it’ll make his boy happy. He’ll do _virtually_ anything to make his boy happy.  
  


Unfortunately, they’ve only just entered the lot and things have already gone terribly wrong.  
  


There is no gentle snowfall. Instead, it’s rainy and windy and downright _miserable_. Louis hasn’t stopped complaining since they left the house, and Harry can’t really blame him.  
  
“Can we go home? We’ll come back tomorrow. It’s too cold for this shit,” Louis mumbles.  
  
“No, let’s go,” Harry urges, pushing Louis toward the trees.  
  
Louis rolls his eyes. “Gimme your coat, then, at least. Mine isn’t warm enough.”  
  
Harry starts to shrug off his jacket, and immediately stills, remembering the ring in his pocket. “No,” he says stupidly.  
  
Louis makes a face. “What do you mean, ‘No’?”  
  
“You should have brought a warmer one.”  
  
“Why are you being such a twat?”  
  
“‘m not.”  
  
“You are! I want your coat, Harry, I’m fucking freezing!”  
  
Harry shakes his head. “Sorry, love.”  
  
Louis pouts in a way that _isn’t_ cute. He’s genuinely mad. “Whatever, Harry. Let’s just go get a fucking tree.” He starts to storm off, splashing his way through the muddy puddles, and Harry grabs his arm.  
  
“No, you can’t be mad at me, not now.”  
  
“Why can’t I be mad at you now.” It isn’t so much of a question as much as it is a snarl.  
  
Harry swallows. “Because.”  
  
“Mature. Let’s go.”  
  
Harry pulls on his arm harder. “No.”  
  
“Harry, enough, you’re being obnoxious.”  
  
He panics, not wanting his perfect proposal to be ruined, not yet realizing it kind of already is ruined. So he does the first thing he can think of: he drops down on one knee.  
  
The look on Louis’ face is absolutely absurd, and at any other time, Harry would burst out into laughter. “Harry, what the _fuck_ are you doing?”  
  
“Louis, you can’t have my coat because I’m proposing.”  
  
Louis is understandably still very confused, and visibly irritated, as well. “What…”  
  
Harry reaches into his coat and pulls out the box. “This isn’t how I wanted to do this,” he says, looking down, and realizes he’s kneeling in a puddle, “but nothing about us goes according to plan.”  
  
Louis’ breath catches in his throat when Harry opens the box. “Harry… Baby,” he whispers. And Louis _never_ calls him baby. Not unless he’s overwhelmed beyond words. Harry surges with pride that he managed to pull that out of him, and he hasn’t even gotten to the good part yet.  
  
“Louis, you’re so beautiful, inside and out, and I can’t believe you picked _me_ to love.”  
  
Louis’ eyes are already a little damp. _Yes_. “I don’t think I really had a choice in the matter,” he whispers.  
  
Harry smiles, his own eyes growing a little watery. “My favourite colour is the pink of your cheeks when you step out of the shower, and the blue of your eyes when you first wake up in the morning. My favourite song is the one you sing whenever we’re in the car with the windows down, your hair going crazy in the wind. My favourite day of the week is any day I get to spend tangled up with you and Lou…” He has to pause to collect his thoughts, all completely jumbled in his mind. “I forget most of what I wanted to say because this isn’t what I had planned _at all_ and my knee is cold and these rain showers are absurd but my heart aches with how much I love you and I would be _honoured_ if you agreed to be mine forever.” He thinks he might pass out before he gets the important words out. “Thank you for being my safety net, my guidance, and for allowing me to love you. If I’m sure of anything in my life, it’s that I’ll _always_ love you. Louis… Will you marry me?”  
  
Louis essentially knocks him straight into the mud, kissing him so fiercely, Harry can’t catch his breath. “Yes, Harry, Christ, keep your coat, just give me the ring and marry me,” he sobs.  
  
Harry chokes out a laugh. “I’m sorry this wasn’t better, baby. I had it all planned out…”  
  
“Are you stupid? This _is_ perfect,” Louis says, eyes still filled with tears as he leans in to kiss Harry again.  
  
When they pull apart, Harry slips the ring onto Louis’ finger and Louis whimpers. “Do you like it?” He’s still nervous.  
  
Louis scoffs. “Harry, it’s unbelievable. I love it. And I guess you’re okay, too.” He’s blushing.  
  
Harry kisses Louis one more time before he stands up, dripping with rain water, shivering. “I love you.”  
  
Louis’ voice cracks when he says against Harry’s mouth, “I love you so much.”

 

At their wedding ceremony eight months later, Louis begins his vows with, “Now, I don’t know if I can compete with how romantic Harry is, considering we’re not standing in a pit of mud…”  
  
Their family and friends laugh, having heard the proposal story multiple times over, and Harry smiles so hard, he can nearly feel his dimple. And he will never tell Louis this, but he doesn’t hear the rest of his vows. He can’t hear anything over the pounding of his own heart, beating frantically at the sight of the love of his life, holding Harry’s wedding band in his hand.

When Louis slips it onto Harry’s ring finger, Harry’s man enough to admit he has to ask the wedding officiant to pause so he can take a moment to stop crying.


	3. Part III: The Middle Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You will always  
> be beautiful,  
> before and after today.
> 
> When our days have seen age.  
> Two tired souls.  
> Two tired hearts.
> 
> We have been through it all,  
> through the fire,  
> and still,  
> what once was will always remain.
> 
> You will always be inside me.
> 
> Never forget that.
> 
> Never forget how much I lived  
> for you, how much I exhausted my hours  
> to watch you grow.
> 
> Never forget how much I loved,  
> and above all,  
> never forget me for how  
> my bones made to love yours  
> every time I saw you walk away.
> 
> \-- RM Drake

_**September  
** _ _**Age 35** _

Harry and Louis are sat in the kitchen, Louis mindlessly stirring his spoon in his teacup. He looks up at Harry. “You ready?”

He shrugs. “I guess so. It’ll be weird to do an interview since becoming parents. I feel like all our answers will be totally different than they used to be.”

Louis smiles. “Well, my goals for now include getting a full six hours of sleep without the interruption of a child poking me in the face or screaming from the room over, and my goals for the future include, one day, not tripping over a fucking pair of tiny shoes on my way out the door.”

Harry laughs and holds up his own teacup. “Cheers to that.”

They agree to take the kids out of the house while the crew is filming. It shouldn’t be more than an hour and a half maximum per interview, but they figure it’ll be easier to keep them separate. However, once Lucy catches on to what’s going on, she has an endless string of questions.

“You started doing _The Up Series_ when you were seven?” she asks, while Louis helps her shrug into her sweater.

Louis nods. “Mhmm. We were just about your age when this whole thing began.”

“Wow!”

“Wow is right.”

“What kind of questions do they ask you?”

Harry bends down to tie Alex’s shoelaces. “We talk about things in our lives, and things we hope happens in our lives. Boring adult stuff, mostly.”

Louis grumbles under his breath. “I’ll fucking say… What a pain in the arse this process is, who signed me up for this shit…”

Lucy cuts him off. “Will I ever be able to see your interviews?”

Harry doesn’t know what Louis’ interviews are like in comparison to his, but the idea of his kids seeing him so vulnerable and raw is somehow worse than the entire world seeing him that way. He looks up and finds Louis already staring back. “Maybe one day, Luce.”

* * *

The house is free of Louis and kids when Harry begins the interview. He runs his fingers through his hair - significantly shorter and less curly since the last time he was interviewed - and squints at the lights shining directly into his eyes.

“‘m Harry Styles, I’m 35, and I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to how fucking bright these lights are.” A few chuckles go around the room. Augustus rolls his eyes, fighting a smile. “Anyway, the last time we talked, I was teaching and Louis and I had just got married. We, uh, we’ve been married for eight years now and we have two kids, Lucy and Alexander. We adopted Lucy when we were 29 and Al when we were 33. They were both tiny little babies when we got them. I miss those days, when they couldn’t fight back.” He pauses to think. “I don’t teach anymore. I decided I wanted to stay home with Luce when she was a baby and then just never went back. Maybe eventually I’ll go back. I dunno.” He scratches his nose. “Louis got his degree in business, if I’ve never mentioned that. I’m sure he has at some point. Anyway, he and Niall opened up a bar the same year we got married, a few months after we did our last interview. It’s called Route 7, appropriately named for how we met.” The look on Harry’s face is wistful when he says, “Proper sap, that one. It keeps him busy, though. Both him and Niall. I think I’ve forgotten what they look like, to be honest.” He isn’t kidding, actually. In fact, he’s _really_ playing off how much he hates that fucking bar.

Augustus laughs. “What’re your goals for right now, Harry?”

Harry groans. “I always tend to forget how vague these questions are.”

“No stalling, Styles!”

He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay! Okay. Goals for right now… To give Lucy and Al a happy holiday season. Last year was a little rocky, and I don’t want a repeat of that.”

“Care to explain?”

Harry mindlessly digs his nails into his thighs. “Not sure I really want this to turn into a therapy session, yeah?”

Eloise looks concerned. “Harry, love, it’s up to you with how much you reveal to us. But just know the end product will be that much better if you’re honest. And we love you. We’ve watched you grow and have your best interest at heart. Maybe sharing will help, with whatever’s going on.”

He nods and takes a deep breath. “No, you’re right. It’s… It’s just some stuff going on with Louis. Marriage is hard, did you know that?”

Eloise nods and smiles. “It _is_ hard.”

“Yeah, and I feel like we weren’t adequately prepared for that. I’ve loved Louis for as long as I can remember, so I figured we’d be fine. Or better than fine, actually. I kind of just dismissed any advice we received on marriage because I was like, well, why would we need this? Can’t you see how gone we are for each other?”

“And now?” Augustus asks.

Harry looks down at his lap. “I don’t really know, to be honest. I still love Louis. I would choose him again and again, every single time. But…” He shrugs. “After we had Lucy, a lot of things changed. We didn’t go on date nights as much, we didn’t take the time for each other as often, and it was around her second birthday that I realized we hadn’t had a conversation about anything other than _her_ in _months_. But we were still okay. We still held hands, we still kissed, he’d still call me in the middle of the day from work to tell me he missed me.” This is a lot harder than he thought it would be, saying all of this out loud, admitting it to someone besides himself. “And then we decided to adopt Al. And my God, Lucy looked at him like he hung the moon and the stars. Jesus Christ, I love my kids.” He starts to choke up, and he takes a second to collect himself. “It wasn’t like Louis did anything wrong, per se, and I don’t think I did, either. We just… We became fathers first and spouses second.”

“That happens to a lot of couples, Harry, it’s completely normal.”

Harry’s frustrated. “But _we_ aren’t like a lot of couples, yeah? We’ve never been normal. I’ve been in love with my husband since before I even _knew_ what being in love was, and there have been bumps in the road, but it was nothing we couldn’t overcome. But this? Having a family isn’t supposed to be a bump. Having a family isn’t supposed to keep you from hugging when you get home from work or buying each other useless trinkets from the petrol station because it made you think of one another.” The tears threatening to slip out start rolling down his cheeks, and he does nothing to stop them. “Do you know what it’s like to feel your marriage break, and you’re afraid to say anything because that makes it real? I haven’t spoken a single word to Louis about it, and I know that probably isn’t the right way about it, but I can’t work up the courage to spit out the words ‘What happened to us?’ without feeling like I’m going to vomit.”

Eloise looks back and forth between Harry, Augustus, and the camera, like she’s trying to decide if she wants to stop filming or not. “Harry, do you want us to pause?”

Harry shakes his head. “No. I just need a second, yeah?” He takes several steady breaths, trying to calm his shaking hands, wondering when he began trembling in the first place. “At least Louis had the balls to say something to me about this once.”

“What’d he say, love?”

He squeezes his eyes shut. The lights are too _fucking_ bright. “A few weeks ago, we were laying in bed. It was really late. He, um, whispered my name, but I ignored him. I pretended I was asleep. I didn’t feel like talking.” Harry opens his eyes, looking up to the ceiling. “He had to have known I was awake, otherwise he wouldn’t have kept talking. And he asked me so quietly I almost couldn’t hear him, ‘Am I still gonna grow old with you?’ And I just kept silent. Like a fucking coward. But he didn’t mention it the next day, and neither did I. I think he was embarrassed. If anything, _I_ should be.” He’s breathing so hard, it sounds like he’s just run a marathon.

“Harry, what do you think happened? It just seems like a downward spiral that happened so quickly.”

He looks at Augustus. “I have asked myself that question about one thousand times over the past year. I don’t really have an answer. We have our good days, don’t get me wrong. I just think that in the past few years, we lost ourselves. And neither of us know where to look to find each other again.”

  
  


It takes Harry a bit to compose himself, to be able to get through the rest of the interview. “Christ, we’ve only done _one_ question?”

Eloise laughs. “We’ll go quickly, Harry. We still need to interview Louis, too.”

He groans. “Alright, let’s keep moving, then.”

“Goals for the future?”

“Alexander will be three in the spring, and the original plan was to wait for him to hit that age to go on our first family holiday since we had kids. The ultimate goal, I suppose, would be to be able to go on a trip together as one unit. Happily.”

Augustus smiles. “Something you’re afraid of?”

“Fuck, this was so much easier when I was seven.” He taps his foot on the floor. “Um, my biggest fear right now, probably, is of Lucy and Alex not having the happy childhood we dreamed of for them. They’re both so intelligent and beautiful and kind… They deserve the world. And I’ll be damned if we don’t give it to them. I don’t ever want to be the root of their unhappiness.”

“I think that’s every good parent’s fear, Harry. It means you’re doing a lovely job raising them.”

He blows out a puff of air. “God, I hope so.”

“Last question.” Augustus looks slightly uncomfortable when he asks, “Sorry, Harry, what does love mean to you?”

Harry laughs. “This just gets worse and worse every time we talk, huh?”

“Take your time.”

He sits up on the chair, straightening his back. “Love to me means sacrificing just about everything you have for your kids. I would do anything for them. Never knew I could love like this until we met Lucy.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Louis and I have a different kind of love than we used to. It’s not an obsession anymore. And that’s good, I think. We’re obsessed with our kids now.” Harry smiles. “Love to me is knowing that Louis and I will fall asleep next to each other tonight, and we will for the rest of our lives, no matter what’s happening in our marriage. We’ll get through it, or at least, I pray we will.” He knows fatigue is written blatantly across his face when he finishes with, “We have to get through it. Right?”

* * *

 

Harry and Louis trade off sometime around dinner, and it’s late when the crew finally wraps up and goes home. Harry keeps Lucy and Alex out with him until it’s way past bedtime, trying to give Louis the same privacy he was granted. He doesn’t make his way back to their home until half nine, much later than he’d anticipated.

He isn’t sure how Louis’ interview went, but when he walks through the front door with Alex asleep in his arms from the car ride, Harry can assume it was similar to his own, based on how bloodshot Louis’ eyes are. They’ve never really talked about their answers in the interviews prior, just casually mentioning it in fleeting conversations, but Harry knows right now is not when he should be asking for the first time. And when Louis flinches as Harry brushes by him on the way to Alex’s bedroom, the ache in his stomach deepens.

After Harry and Louis work together silently to get their kids ready for bed as quickly as possible, he steps into the hallway to lean against the doorway, closing his eyes. He thinks about how predictable Louis is, how familiar everything is. He knows Louis will kiss Lucy first on the nose, then forehead, then cheeks. He knows Louis will tuck her in up to her chin, rubbing circles onto her back, the same way he likes to be rubbed, and will ask her about her day. He knows Louis will only manage to get through a quarter of a chapter from whatever book they’re reading that night, because Lucy will have already fallen asleep. Harry doesn’t have to ask “What’s next?” in order to know what to expect. Everything is the same, and from the outside nothing has changed. That’s why it hurts so much when Harry thinks of how often he’s walking on eggshells in his own home, in his own marriage, unaware of what’s happening, lost in his own mind.

He can hear Louis reading a chapter of _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_ to Lucy. She often makes Louis stop with a, “Papa, what does that mean?” and Louis patiently explains. Her questions are coming less frequently, though, and Harry can tell she’s close to sleep, not surprising since she’s normally already in bed for hours by now. He tiptoes into Alex’s bedroom across the hall, where he’s already deep in slumber, even after being transferred from the car, and he kisses him on the cheek. He’s breathing heavily and Harry’s chest hurts with how much he loves him.

Harry hears Louis pad out of Lucy’s bedroom from across the hallway, book in hand, and he comes up behind Harry.

“She’s out, if you wanna say goodnight.”

Harry hums. “I do.” He slips by Louis on his way out, just barely catching Louis’ mumbled, “Sleep well. Love you so much.” For a moment, he thinks Louis’ talking to him, and his breath catches in his throat. When he turns around, he sees Louis bent over Alex’s bed, and he realizes.

He’s nearly holding his breath when he creeps into Lucy’s bedroom, her nightlight glowing in the corner of the room, and he crouches down to sweep her hair out of her face. Her breathing is already steady and even, lips pursed, and it’s these times that he feels so content, just to be a father. He can handle anything if it means he gets to call these two children his own. With practiced ease, Harry presses his lips against Lucy’s forehead, whispering, “Love you, my sweet girl.” And with that, he realizes how very exhausted he is.

He slips out of her bedroom quietly, closing the creaking bedroom door slowly, cracking the joints in his knees as he makes his way to his own bedroom. Light spills out into the hallway, and Louis is changing into his own pyjamas, back turned toward Harry. The muscles in his back are defined as he pulls his t-shirt over his head. Harry sighs, rolling his shoulders as he makes his way to the closet.

  
  


Harry doesn’t know who ended up making the first move, but one moment, he’s rummaging for a clean jumper to wear, and the next, his body is slick and tense, pushing into Louis slower than he can ever remember doing throughout the entirety of their relationship.

He can’t believe how incredible it feels, Louis tight around him after nearly six months of nothing, and he has to keep closing his eyes just so he doesn’t lose it at the sight of Louis below him, whimpering occasionally, biting at his bottom lip, eye contact never wavering from Harry’s face.

Louis leans up to kiss Harry, gentle and slow, similar to the way Harry is fucking into Louis, and he kisses back with everything in him, tongue tracing along the inside of Louis’ mouth. Louis wraps his legs around Harry’s waist tighter.

Neither of them talk; they hardly make any noise at all, except for the occasional groan from Louis if Harry thrusts hard, taking Louis by surprise. And as he slowly licks at Louis’ collarbones, he tries to remember if they’ve ever had sex like this. Usually, Louis is bossy, loud, clingy. Usually, they’re smiling or laughing. Usually, they fuck so hard, Harry’s sweat drips off the end of his hair and onto Louis’ chest. And usually, when they fuck slow, Harry can’t stop talking, telling Louis how absolutely bloody perfect he is, how maddening he is, how no one else could ever make Harry feel the way he does.

Not this time.

It’s unbearably intense. He rocks into Louis slowly, dizzy, feeling like he’s if he didn’t concentrate, he would stop breathing all together. Louis can’t stop shaking, dragging his hands down Harry’s face, panting heavily. Harry doesn’t feel like he needs to break the silence, though. Louis knows what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. Louis always knows. Louis _still_ knows.

He changes his angle after a few thrusts, and he knows he hits Louis’ prostate dead on by the way Louis unexpectedly lets out a high-pitched moan, his legs twitching around Harry’s waist. He makes sure not to change up his movements, loving the way Louis can’t stop whimpering below him, jaw trembling.

When Louis’ hands shoot up to grab at the headboard, Harry immediately laces his right hand through Louis’, managing to balance on just his left hand, keeping his thrusts steady and even, slow and so, _so_ fucking good. And he knows Louis is close by the way he can’t seem to keep his eyes open any longer, his stomach trembling, his breathing shallow and loud. Harry’s close, too.

Louis arches his back and whimpers Harry’s name over and over as he comes untouched, shooting up his stomach, Harry’s thrusts still lazy and unhurried. Louis clenches around Harry as he pulls him down for a kiss, and when he pulls back, he says under his breath, “You’ve never looked so gorgeous, Haz.” It’s so uncharacteristic of him, and he nearly looks worried when he says it. Harry squeezes his eyes shut, reveling in the way his nickname sounds rolling off Louis’ tongue for the first time in so long, and that’s what finally sends him over the edge, coming hard while he’s pushed as far inside Louis as he can manage.

They don’t talk after that, either. They _do_ wrap themselves up in each other, though, Harry brushing Louis’ hair out of his eyes like he’d done to their daughter just hours earlier, Louis kissing Harry’s shoulder every time their eye contact becomes too much. And they fall asleep like that.

 

It’s not everything, but it’s something.

And that’s a start.

* * *

The next morning, Harry wakes up with Louis’ head on his chest, his fingers carding through Harry’s hair. Harry suppresses a groan from how good it feels, having his hair twisted the way he loves, having Louis pressed up against him in all the right spots after going so long without him.

“Louis,” he whispers, unable to come up with anything else that adequately describes what he’s feeling or thinking.

Louis scratches lightly behind Harry’s ear. “Hi.”

He bends down and captures Louis’ lips in a soft kiss, breathing against his mouth. And they take their time, morning sun just barely peeking in through the window, still rising, moving slowly outside, as slowly as Harry and Louis are moving inside.

Harry pulls away after a few minutes and traces his thumb along Louis’ bottom lip. He hates that Louis looks so uneasy. “Lou, can I ask you a question?”

The look of discomfort increases. “I suppose.”

“Why haven’t we ever talked about our interviews?”

Louis props himself up on his elbow and he stares at Harry. “Do you _want_ to talk about it?”

Harry frowns. “Not necessarily. I will if you want to. I just feel like it’s this weird secret between us? But like… It’s the foundation of us. We might not have ever met if we weren’t doing this thing. It’s just a little strange that we’ve never talked about it in depth.”

Louis sighs. “So you don’t wanna keep it a secret for the end? When the final product is finally revealed to the public?”

“But do we know when that will be? They might air it once everyone in the series is dead. And then we’ll never know.”

“‘t’s a good point. You’re right. We might not ever know. But I think we know more about each other than we’d ever learn from this fucking TV show, yeah?”

Harry smiles. “Do know you pretty well.”

Louis rolls onto his back, dragging Harry on top of him. Harry goes willingly. “What am I thinking right now, then, if you know me so well?”

He shudders, straddling Louis, already very on board with the sudden change of pace, even if it is just a distraction tool. “You’re thinking you wanna get off before Alex starts screaming in about six minutes,” he says, dropping his forehead to Louis’.

Louis laughs, pushing his hips up to meet Harry’s. “I’d say I agree with that. Don’t think I could take it if you fucked me, though. Still sore from last night. It’s been almost 20 years of taking your cock and I still can’t believe how big it is.”

Harry groans, now very awake and very turned on, and he bites a rough kiss into Louis’ lips, Louis parting his mouth easily. He pulls away and ducks into Louis’ neck to suck a bruise into it. Eventually, Louis starts squirming underneath him, hissing. Harry runs his tongue over the red mark. “Think you can come before we have to get up with the kids?”

Louis squirms even more. “Depends. What did you have in mind?”

He hastily kisses down his chest, reaching down to palm Louis through his pants. He’s halfway hard already. “Can I suck you off?”

“I don’t know, can you?”

Harry snorts. “I hate you.”

Before Louis can answer, Harry pulls off his pants and immediately lowers his head down to suck the head of Louis’ cock into his mouth, closing his eyes, loving the feeling of Louis getting harder with each passing second. Louis’s hands automatically reach down to grab into Harry’s hair, pulling lightly, thrusting shallowly into Harry’s mouth. His whines turn into whimpers, and his whimpers turn into moans.

Harry pulls off all the way, jerking him slowly. “If you wake up our kids, I won’t let you come.”

Louis throws his arm over his eyes. “‘m already so close, you fucking prick, keep going.”

He smiles, dimple making an appearance, and takes him back down all the way, bobbing over and over. Louis wasn’t kidding. His breathing is already shaky, his thighs already trembling. Harry’s nose meets Louis’ stomach, and he swallows around him. Louis digs his nails into the back of Harry’s neck, his breathing frantic, and Harry knows he’s just about there. To send him over the edge, he pushes his finger in between Louis’ arse cheeks, still open and loose from last night, and it slides in easily. Louis lets out a broken noise and immediately comes down Harry’s throat.

Harry swallows and pulls off, and sits up on his knees. He listens for signs of life from the other room and hears nothing. _Relief_. Louis, though pliant and satisfied, looks Harry up and down, and gestures to his cock tenting obscenely in his pants. “Need help with your situation?”

“Would be nice,” he grumbles, crawling up the bed. He settles down his side, biting back a groan when Louis wraps a hand around him. He doesn’t even manage three strokes before Alex starts yelling from the room over, “Daddy! Papa! I’m awake!”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Harry cries, letting his head drop down to Louis’ shoulder. “What the fuck do we do now?”

Louis smirks, squeezing Harry’s cock roughly, and then lets go entirely. “I’ll make it up to you later,” he murmurs into the crook of Harry’s shoulder.

“Later?! I’m hard as a fucking rock!”

He laughs. “If you stop complaining, I’ll ride you tonight.”

Harry’s breath hitches at that. “You haven’t done that in a really long time.” He reaches around and squeezes Louis’ arse cheeks in his hand. “You _know_ how much I love that. You’re not just teasing me, are you?”

Louis shakes his head. “I promise. I want it.”  
  


  
And want it, he does.

That night, long after Lucy and Alex are asleep, Louis rides Harry, bouncing up and down, swiveling his hips like he was born to do, sweat dripping down his temples and onto Harry’s stomach. Harry can’t stop touching him everywhere; his cock, his thighs, his arse, his hands. Louis clenches around him, eyes glazed over, and Harry can hardly stand how sexy he is.

“Gonna come for me? Use me to get yourself off?” Harry asks, nearly on the cusp of begging Louis to fucking hurry up with his close he is himself. But he needs Louis to get there first.

Louis whines, fucking himself down onto Harry’s cock repeatedly, never losing momentum. “So close, Hazza. Always make me feel so good.”

Harry thrusts up into him harder and Louis slumps over, face pressed up against Harry’s neck. They both come like that, Harry’s jaw slack, silent as he pulses into Louis. Louis pulls himself off slowly, wincing, and cuddles his way so close into Harry, he swears he can almost _feel_ Louis’ intestines. He loves when Louis gets like this, though; clingy-after-sex-Louis is one of Harry’s favourite versions of Louis. He takes advantage and pulls him close, breathing in his sweaty hair.

“You’re so fucking weird, Styles,” Louis grumbles.

“I’m weird just because I like the smell of your sweat?”

Harry can tell he’s making a face that says _you’re an idiot_ without actually having to look at him. “Yes.”

“Okay then. I’m weird.” He breathes in deeply again. Louis laughs.

They lay there like that for far too long, considering they have young kids who like to wake up at arse o’clock. It’s half two in the morning when Harry’s eyelids begin to slip, his fingers in Louis’ hair unmoving, and he barely hears Louis when he whispers, “I miss you so fucking much.”

Harry swallows audibly. When Louis is open like that without prompting, it always makes Harry’s chest constrict a little. Especially now. “‘m right here, baby,” he whispers back, unsure of what else to say, caught off guard.

Louis pushes himself further into Harry’s body, as if there was more room to go. “You know what I mean.”

Harry nods. “I’m never going anywhere, Lou. I promise.”

“I don’t wanna miss you anymore.”

He doesn’t want to cry. Not again. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just wanna fix it all, okay?”

Louis’ shoulders shake, and Harry wants to die. “Me, too.”

Harry wraps his arms tighter around Louis. “I feel like I can’t tell you I love you because it’s been so long and that makes me feel like a twat. But. Lou.” He hauls Louis on top of him. “I love you so much.”

Louis starts crying harder. “I fucking hate all of this. I love you but I _hate_ this.”

Harry wipes his thumb under Louis’ eye, collecting tears. “Do you trust me?”

He nods.

“Then believe me when I say we’ll get through this. It’s just a rough patch, yeah? A long one, but we’ll be okay. I’ll do whatever it takes to fix it. I swear.” Harry traces shapes along Louis’ spine, and Louis shivers, curling up into the contact.

“It’s not just up to you to take care of this, Harry,” Louis mumbles. “It’s both of us. But, thank you. For always wanting to take care of me. I…” He trails off, and Harry doesn’t push him.

They lay silently for a while. Harry can hear the steady ticking of the clock against the wall and the steady beating of Louis’ heart against his palm. “I’d choose you every single time,” Harry whispers against Louis’ forehead. “I said that in the interview. Sorry to ruin the surprise for when you actually watch it a million years from now.”

“Fuck you,” Louis says rolling off of Harry, a hint of teasing to his voice. “Now I have no point in watching it.”

“Oh, but _I_ do. Little Louis with braces and straightened hair? How could I say no to that.”

Louis snorts. “Fuck you twice.”

They fall silent once more, and Harry’s almost asleep again, when Louis’ voice wakes him for the second time that night. “You’ll never know how lucky I am that you chose me the first time. Once is enough, Harry. You don’t ever have to choose me again.”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut, trying and mostly failing to ignore the way they’ve grown misty again, and pulls Louis’ shivering body up against his own, leaving no space between them. He isn't letting go.

  
  


He can't do a lot of things right now, but at least he can keep Louis warm.

* * *

They take the kids on vacation in the early summer, right after Alex turns three, coming to the conclusion that a nice break from reality would be beneficial for everyone. Before the kids were born, Harry and Louis did some basic traveling across Europe - Germany, Ireland, Amsterdam, and some parts of Italy - and for their honeymoon, they crashed on the beaches of Greece for 10 days. It got the travel bug out of their systems temporarily, but they never got the chance to see the United States like they always swore they would do together.

So, their simple vacation for four turns into an international extravaganza, spanning from New England to California.

Louis takes a month off from the bar, trusting Niall to be able to run it smoothly in his absence, and Liam offers to join in, knowing how much work it would be with Louis gone for four weeks. Louis actually leaves his work phone behind, and Harry tries to remember the last time he saw his husband without that fucking phone glued to his hand. He can’t recall.

It’s okay. It’s all okay. Deep breaths.

Their first week in the US, they explore Bar Harbor, Maine, loving the open ocean, cliffs, and endless lobster restaurants. They stop in Boston on their way to Cape Cod, and after enjoying a second week on Martha’s Vineyard, they pack up and head to California.

They spend five days at Disneyland and on day three, Harry wants to pull his hair out. This is significantly less relaxing than their 14 days in New England, he thinks, as he chases his 3-year-old covered in fried dough running through the theme park towards Minnie’s open arms. It must show on his face because Louis squeezes Harry’s neck, stilling him.

“Just let them go wild,” Louis says. He lifts his sunglasses up and puts them on top of his head. “Chances are, we aren’t ever coming back here, yeah? Let them be little. And we’ll have our own fun later.”

Harry doesn’t get the chance to ask what that means because Lucy drops her ice cream directly on her foot, resulting in an ear-piercing shriek, and Alex starts crying when another child approaches his beloved Minnie Mouse.

“Daddy! I’m not done talking to Minnie!”

Harry leaves Lucy with Louis and saunters over to Alex, praying he won’t have to rip his son away from Minnie Mouse in front of at least 25 onlookers.

He ends up having to rip his son away from Minnie Mouse in front of at least 25 onlookers.

It causes Louis to hysterically laugh, nearly screaming with laughter, which puts Harry in stitches, tears rolling down his face from the absurdity of it and before he knows it, he can’t remember why he was stressed out to begin with.

And when Lucy shoves her ice cream clad sandal in front of his face, it doesn’t seem so bad.

* * *

When they get back to the hotel, Louis tells Harry to get ready. He wants to take his family out to a nice dinner. And Harry is extremely skeptical - taking two young children out for a “nice dinner” does not equal a “nice dinner” - but Louis looks excited and it’s been a _long_ time since Louis has planned something for the family, and even longer since Harry has seen that look in his eyes. So he obliges.

Louis tells Harry he’ll get Lucy and Al ready, and for Harry not to worry about it, so he trusts him and keeps to himself, taking his time in the shower, crawling at snail’s pace when putting on his clothes, loving the uninterrupted time for himself.

He steps out of the bedroom at about half six, expecting to see his children dressed and ready to go, but they’re both in pyjamas. Confused, he turns to Louis, and his jaw nearly drops.

He looks gorgeous, in a pair of tight black jeans, rolled up just above the ankle, and a jacket over his t-shirt. And when did Louis learn how to style his hair into a quiff? It reminds Harry of how he used to dress when they had just started dating again, and he has to resist the urge to press him up against the hotel door, sucking a bruise into his neck in the place just below his ear, right where Louis likes it.

“Lou, what’s going on? I thought you were getting the kids ready.”

“I did get them ready.”

“I don’t get it.”

Louis smirks. “You look nice, love.”

Harry peers down at his own outfit and looks back up. “You’re one to talk. Christ, look at you.”

Louis shrugs. “Well, yeah.”

He laughs. “No, really, Lou. We’re gonna be late if the kids aren’t dressed.” He’s interrupted by a knock on the door. He stares at Louis, and Louis gestures toward the door.

“It’s not gonna open itself, Curly.”

Harry sighs and walks toward the door, still utterly confused, and when he pulls it open, the confusion only grows. “Zayn? Grace?”

Upon hearing Zayn’s name, Lucy and Alex bounce off the couch and sprint toward the door. “Uncle Z! Auntie Gracie!” they both scream.

Zayn picks them both up together, exaggerating his groans, and says, “Hi, babes. I missed you. Are you having fun in Disney?”

Lucy and Alex start screaming at once, trying to talk over one another, and Harry isn’t listening at all. When the fuck did Zayn get to California?

The look on his face must be dumbfounded, because Louis rolls his eyes and says, “Let’s go, H. I’ll explain later. Thanks, Zayn. Thanks, Grace.”

The newlyweds smile, shooing them out the door, and Harry catches Zayn’s gaze before the door clicks shut. Zayn sticks out his tongue and winks.

 

Apparently, he still knows _everything._

  
  


Over dinner, Louis sips at his glass of wine, and Harry is beyond impressed that he managed to pull this off. Louis explains that the second they’d decided on the trip to California, he told Zayn he wanted to surprise Harry with a night out alone, but didn’t know how to make that happen without family or babysitters around. Zayn jumped on board, saying he and Grace would _love_ to go to Cali, and would have no problem watching Lucy and Al for a night, allowing Louis to do his thing.

Louis twirls his pasta around his fork and looks up at Harry. “This is me making an effort, yeah? An effort to show you I’m still all in.”

Harry leans across the table and grabs Louis’ hand, tracing his thumb across Louis’ knuckles. “This is more than an effort, baby,” he says. “This is… You’re amazing.”

They don’t say much after that, just enjoying each other’s company in silence, listening to the muted chatter around them and the crash of the waves from beyond the balcony. Eventually, Harry clears his throat.

“I’m still completely obsessed with you, you know? I just love you so much. Will never be able to convey to you how in love with you I am.”

Louis ducks his head down and the blush on his cheeks is glowing. That’s answer enough.

  
  


They’re tipsy when they get back to the hotel, stumbling through the door, trying to be as quiet as they can. Zayn and Grace are dozing on the couch, kids asleep in their room, and Louis climbs onto Zayn’s lap, putting his head on Grace’s.

“Thank you both, we love you,” he slurs, his eyelids drooping. Okay, maybe he’s more than tipsy.

Zayn twists to look at Harry. “Hazza, come get your boy.”

He smiles. “I’m coming.” Harry picks up Louis bridal-style, which Louis would normally protest against, but this time, he burrows his head into Harry’s chest.

“You gonna bring me to bed?”

“Mhmm.”

“You gonna fuck me?”

Harry coughs. “Jesus, Lou.”

“ _And_ on that note,” Zayn says, scrambling to get up, pulling Grace up with him.

Harry drops Louis in front of their bedroom door and nudges him inside. “I’ll be right there, baby.”

“Mmk.” He makes his way inside and yells over his shoulder, “I love you, Mr. and Mrs. Malik!”

Grace shakes her head with a smile. “Go to bed,” Zayn laughs.

Harry helps Zayn collect their things and when they reach the door, Harry pulls Zayn into a hug. He squeezes tightly, and Zayn grips him back. “Thank you, Z,” he whispers.

Zayn nods, his hair tickling Harry’s cheek. “Anything for you guys.”

“I love him so much.”

Zayn pulls back. “I know. He knows, too.”

  
  


Harry’s thrusts are slow but hard as he pushes himself into Louis. They’re both laying on their sides, Harry behind Louis, kissing sloppily at Louis’ neck. Louis groans and throws his head back further, revealing more skin for Harry to suck a bruise into. He bites and Louis hisses, but Harry knows he loves it.

“So good for me, baby,” Harry grunts, circling his hand around Louis’ cock. “Always _so_ good.”

“Harry, _harder_ ,” Louis demands, his chest heaving, his hips working backward onto Harry’s cock.

Harry obeys, pumping his hips faster, slamming into Louis. Louis moans obscenely. “Beautiful, Louis. You’re gorgeous, can’t ever take my eyes off of you.”

The hotel mattress squeaks in time with Harry’s movements, and he’s vaguely aware of the headboard rocking into the wall, but he can’t be bothered. Not when Louis is groaning and whimpering and whining high in his throat like it’s first time ever taking Harry’s cock.

Harry nearly laughs at the thought of that.

The way Louis is spazzing around him, he knows that he’s close, so he pushes in the way he knows Louis loves most, and it only takes several more thrusts for Louis to come all over his fist. Harry chases his own orgasm, listening to Louis mumble, “Come on, Haz, feels so nice when you come, yeah? Come inside me, wanna feel you,” and he falls over the edge moments later.

He pulls out, keeping his hand on Louis’ chest to pull him in close, and Louis curls himself into Harry’s touch.

“‘m so glad you’re good in bed,” Louis mumbles, already dangerously close to being asleep.

Harry snorts. “Otherwise you would have left me by now, right?”

“Probably.” They lay there in silence for a bit until Louis sees his position unfit. He twists around so he’s facing Harry. “Probably not.”

Harry smiles and promptly falls asleep, not an inch of room between them.

* * *

For the next few years, Harry and Louis go back to normal. Their kids gag whenever they kiss - which is a _lot_ \- and date nights are reinstated. When Lucy and Alex are both old enough to be in school full time, Harry takes on substitute teaching, falling in love with it again. He admits to Louis how much he hates that Louis is _always_ at the bar, and Louis listens, making schedule changes nearly immediately. And though Louis still calls the Route 7 his “third baby,” he’s there considerably less, not hiding away as often, coming _home_ to his family every night, and not _leaving_ them.

It feels good. Harry feels like a huge weight is lifted off his shoulders, like he can properly breathe for the first time in years.

 

And then, right around Harry’s 40th birthday, Jay gets sick.


	4. Part IV: The Later Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And loving you  
> was a pattern of self-discovery  
> because someway, somehow,  
> I always ends up  
> learning something new  
> and something real about myself.
> 
> So thanks baby,  
> thank you for fucking  
> hurting  
> and the beating  
> and the tragic love story  
> and the way you handled it,  
> and the way you let go.
> 
> It helped me learn one thing.
> 
> How some people really do need  
> other people.  
> How they need someone to tear them apart,  
> until there is nothing  
> let to hold.
> 
> And I am holding on to whatever it is  
> that I have left.
> 
> \-- RM Drake

_**September  
Age 42** _

“Christ has it already been 7 years again? I've been fighting and dealing with this for 7 years?” This is how Harry begins his interview, skipping over his introduction entirely. He tries to ignore the way the crew is giving him a variety of faces, looks that say _Harry, what are you doing_ , and _Oh no, not this again_ , and _Fuck_.

He rubs his eyes and sighs. “I’m Harry Styles. I’m 42 years old. My kids are 13 and nine. I’ve been married for 14 years.” He cracks his knuckles. “Feels like a lot longer.”

Eloise and Augustus are still present, and when Harry looks at them, he wonders if he looks as old as they do. They’re in their 70’s, so probably not quite, but with the amount of stress he’s been under in the past 20 months or so, he can imagine he doesn’t look too great, either.

Eloise tilts her head to the side, something his mum always does when she’s trying to get him to listen. “Harry, do you want to give us a quick recap before we begin? It can be off the record.”

He shakes his head. “Might as well do it all on camera, yeah?” He waves his hand about. “Let’s just get it over with.”

Augustus turns the overhead lights on so they shine brighter. “Okay, Styles, let’s do this.”

“Marriage is hard,” he starts, “and all the shit that comes along with it is even harder. I don't think we were adequately warned. I just assumed we'd always be fine because he was the love of my life. But it's fucking _hard_ and now, in this moment in time, I'm not so sure what he is to me. Definitely not the love of my life. Barely even a friend.

“Almost two years ago, Louis’ mum, Jay, got really sick. It was a total shock. No one in his family has ever had cancer, so when she was diagnosed, we were all in denial. And her prognosis wasn’t good. Doctors gave her nine months, tops.

“It all just happened so quickly. Nine months would have been a _dream_ . We got four. And Louis… He just absolutely fell apart. You don’t know heartache until you watch your spouse lose a parent. I can imagine the only thing worse would be if you were the one _actually losing_ the parent.”

Harry pauses to wipe his eyes. He never really had time to mourn the loss of his mother-in-law because he was too busy mourning the loss of his husband. Whenever he thinks about Jay, he feels short of breath. He misses her _so much_.

“I just feel like we’re in this perpetual cycle of _shit_ . I have to keep reminding myself that it isn’t his fault, really. I don’t know what it feels like to lose a parent, and I hope to God I won’t know what that feels like for a really long time, so it’s hard for me to understand. But _fuck_ . We’d completely gotten over that rough patch that we went through a few years ago and this set us back so far that I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to recover. It was better for _so_ long, but now every minute of every day is a struggle. He just completely lost himself when his mum died, understandably so, but he isn’t trying to get his life back. It’s like he died, too.

“I tried for so long, endless months of doing whatever he wanted or needed, and nothing made a difference. There’s only so much I can do, yeah? I can’t magically bring Jay back, I can’t magically make him happy. I don’t know what he fucking wants from me. Jesus Christ.

“I’m just tired of trying. Do you know what it feels like to say ‘I love you’ like it’s a chore? We eventually just stopped saying it all together. This isn’t the life I imagined for myself, or for us. I think I can finally admit out loud that I’m staying married to Louis because it’s the easier option, and not because I really want to. And _fuck_ , if that doesn’t break my heart.

“I know it’s not Louis’ fault. I know that, deep down. But it doesn’t make falling asleep on the edge of the bed any easier, just so we don’t accidentally touch. The gap between us might as well be miles. I don’t know how to get my husband back, and I don’t think I ever will. Is it pathetic to say that I don’t really care, and that I’ve given up? Because I have. I fought for Louis my entire life, even when I had him, and I am just so fucking tired of fighting. Can you blame me? Maybe we’re just not as special as I always thought we were. In my mind, I believed us to be exceptional. I don’t think that anymore. We’re just ordinary people who had an unordinary start.”

Harry’s out of breath by the time he finishes, and unlike every other time he’s done this, he doesn’t feel better once he says everything that’s sitting heavy on his heart. If anything, he feels worse.

Augustus shuffles the paperwork in his hands. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Harry.”

“Which loss.” He doesn’t mean to make it sound so cold, but he doesn’t apologize for it, either.

“Louis’ mum. You haven’t lost Louis.”

“If I’ve made peace with it, you have to, too.”

Eloise purses her lips. “We’ve been watching you and Louis grow up for 35 years now. And we’ve seen you both overcome so much. You’re our two favourite people to interview, and we interview 18 people. We would absolutely hate to see this fall apart for you.”

“Well it’s not really fucking up to you, now is it?” He knows it’s a mistake the second the words leave his mouth. “El, I’m sorry, that was so rude. I’m so sorry.”

She twists her hands together. “I understand.”

He closes his eyes and starts without Augustus prompting him. “My goal for right now is to either find the courage to rip up the divorce papers, or to find the courage to hand them to him,” he spits out as quickly as he can. “My goal for the future is to get a full-time teaching job again. I’m tired of relying on Louis for income. I hate that fucking bar. What I fear the most, right now, is… Lucy and Al realizing how unhappy we are. They’re both at such pivotal ages, and if we keep our act up the way we have been for the past year and a half, they might turn out okay. Fuck.” He stops to remember the last question. “And, I guess, love to me is staying married for the sake of our children. And that’s the one thing Louis and I still see eye to eye on: our kids. And I now understand my mother.” He feels hot all over, he feels like his skin is burning up. “I wonder when she reached her breaking point with my dad. I wonder when it all became too much for her and she had no choice but to leave. Because honestly, I think I’ve already reached my own breaking point several times over.”

He doesn’t wait for the crew to wrap up like he usually does. Instead, he leaps up out of his chair and nearly dives at Eloise. He wraps his arms around her, and she hugs back immediately. “I’m sorry, El. I love you. I know you mean well. I’m just…”

“I know, love. I know.”

* * *

 _**September** _  
_**Age 49** _

Harry is sat on the chair with a stoic expression on his face. He nearly chokes on his saliva when he tries to swallow.

The lights turn on, but he doesn’t flinch.

“I’m Harry. Nothing has changed. I’m done.”

He stands up and walks out. That’s it for his year 49 interview.

 

He refuses to comment.  


* * *

Life goes on. Slowly. But they all move forward.

* * *

  
_**September** _  
_**Age 56** _

“I’m Harry Styles, I’m 56, and first and foremost, I’d like to apologize for being such a massive _prick_ in my last interview. I’m sorry, sorry to the viewers, to the crew, to Louis. That year was just so horrifyingly terrible, that I didn’t have it in me to pretend I cared, yeah? Not really an excuse, but my mind was so clouded, it was the only thing I could think to do. You know when you’re at rock bottom and you think it can’t get any worse? That’s where I was at age 48. And then at 49, it got significantly worse. But…” He smiles. “A lot can happen in 14 years. Or seven years, even. I guess that’s sort of the purpose of this fucking series, innit?”

The interviewer isn’t Augustus anymore. It’s a younger man, and it’s very unlike Harry to not introduce himself to everyone in the room, but he doesn’t have it in him today to go around, shaking the hands of his new coworkers. Today, he wants to speak, uninterrupted, and get everything off his chest. So he begins interviewing himself, not allowing the new and blatantly nervous crew members to get a word in edgewise.

“Seven years ago, my marriage was over, completely damaged and basically just shot to hell. There was no coming back from it. And it broke my heart to know the man I was always so sure of didn’t exist anymore.” He’s sure his smile is confusing to everyone in the room. “He came back. I will never understand how he suddenly woke up one morning and decided it was time to make massive changes. I’m not sure he understands how it happened, either. And I’m not saying we went back to how we used to be over night. It took years of effort to get us back on track, and even today, it’s not all erased. We still have bad days. But.” Harry’s grin is blinding, he’s sure of it. “I feel like I’m 25 again, yeah? We sneak around the house like teenagers even though neither of our kids live with us anymore. We go out on dates and he reaches for my hand across the table. He makes me breakfast in bed. Or, at least, he attempts to make me breakfast in bed.” He blushes. “We can’t keep our hands off each other. Ah, sorry, Lucy and Al, if you ever end up watching this, somehow.

“Louis and I are not special. We are not the only people to have gone through a difficult marriage. We are not the only people to fix irreparable damage. But you know what makes us different? That this has been 49 years in the making. I’ve spent nearly half a century with Louis Tomlinson, and I _survived_ .” His smile is cheeky and playful, and it gets a few laughs out of a few of the crew members. “I met my husband when I was seven, and it was because of _The Up Series_. It was unconventional, it was unplanned, so it’s fair to say that our entire relationship followed suit.

“My goal for right now is to finish up this year of teaching, and then retire. I love my class, I love my kids, I love my job, but I love my life more. I want to come back seven years from now and brag to you about my travels with Louis during my time off.

“My goal for the future… To remain this happy. I don’t know if I’m this content because I’ve seen what my life is like at its worst. I don’t want to go back there. I won’t let myself. I won’t let Lou, either. I’ll take some of the responsibility for that now. Before, I was too stubborn and blamed it all on him. It’s a team effort, yeah? We’re in this together.” He smiles. “It’s the rule.

“I’m afraid of a lot of things. I don’t have a definite answer for this one anymore. I’m probably afraid of my kids ever losing their way, of my mum passing. I know that’s incredibly selfish because Jay has been gone for so, so long, and my mum is in her 90’s. It’s still scary, though.

“Love is just…” He takes a moment to breathe. “Our happiness has fluctuated so much,” he nearly whispers. “It was like, when we were happy, my God, I was blinded by how much I loved that idiot of mine. We were just so absolutely in sync that it was comical.” He stops to look around the room. “I don’t want the negatives to define us. There were some days in our marriage that I felt like I was still waiting for him to catch up, for him to be ready for us, to love me the way I thought he did. Sometimes I wanted to scream that he wasn’t the only one struggling, that he was fucking selfish for thinking that way.” He rubs his hands together. “But after all we’ve been through in our 56 years together, I am still fully convinced, still positively sure, that we were never meant to be apart.”

 

He gives his entire interview with no interruptions, and no one says anything when he takes off his mic and stands up.

But, they’re all smiling.

* * *

Five years later, Harry and Louis are sat in Rome, enjoying dinner, their first time back to Italy since they visited before they got married. Louis’ uncharacteristically quiet, and Harry brushes his thumb across Louis’ knuckles over the table.

“You okay, Lou?”

He hums. “I am.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“How ugly you are,” he says without missing a beat.

He smiles. That’s more like it. “That’s what I figured.”

Louis winks. “No, love, just thinking about how happy I am, you know?”

 

He knows.

* * *

 _**September** _  
_**Age 63** _

Harry calls the production crew for _The Up Series_ on a Thursday, asking if he could cancel, asking if he could permanently pull out. He knew the answer would be no, especially after what he pulled at his year 49 interview, but it was worth a shot.

The crew files into his home two days later on Saturday, setting up quickly. Harry takes a deep breath, hating that Eloise and Augustus are no longer a part of the crew, as they’d both passed away some years prior. Both he and Louis had attended their services. He looks down at his hands as the lights are turned on, trying not to feel exposed.

“Hi, Mr. Styles, I’m Leah,” a woman with a clipboard says. _Woman_ is pushing it, though. To Harry, she’s a baby, younger than his own kids. She’s probably no older than 25, definitely American, and Harry wonders how she landed the job. Leah points to a man that appears to be in his 40’s, who smiles when Harry looks at him. “This is Ben. He’s going to be interviewing you.”

Harry thinks about the original crew again, and his heart aches. “Nice to see you both again. I remember you. But please, call me Harry.”

Leah smiles. “Wasn’t sure if you remembered us from a few weeks back.” She pauses. “Obviously, this is my first time doing this, and you’re no rookie. So I want you to do whatever works best for you, okay? And if you have any pointers, please, let me know.”

He nods. “I’ll do what I can.” He starts off shaky, his voice wavering. “Hi, again, I’m Harry. I’m 63 now, completely retired, and… Yeah,” he finishes lamely.

“This is our first time working together,” Benjamin says, “so please bear with me while I try to figure out the best way to do this.”

Harry forces a smile. It probably looks more like a grimace. “Take your time.”

Ben clears his throat. “Okay, Harry, let’s start with your current goals. What are they?”

He looks up to the ceiling, his eyes already welling up. “To get through this interview without crying or panicking.”

Ben, along with the rest of the crew, doesn’t know how to respond. Harry immediately feels uncomfortable, and tries to come up with a way to backtrack. A smile voice from the back of the room breaks the silence. “Harry? Hi,” she says, making her way forward. She looks to be about the same age as Leah. “I’m Felicite.”

Harry bites his bottom lip. “Did you know you have the same name as my sister-in-law?”

She smiles. “I do know that, actually.” Everyone in the room is looking at her. She twists her hands together. “I’ve spent the past few weeks reviewing your past interviews - Louis’ too - and it’s obvious that you both had a really close bond with the crew members, yeah?”

Harry ducks his head down. “I would say so, yes.”

“And you looked to them for comfort when the pressure of this got to be too much.” It isn’t really a question.

He nods. “Yeah, they were good for that.”

Felicite nods solemnly. “I know it’s not the same, but if you want to utilize us in the same way, we’re here to listen. This isn’t just an interview anymore, Harry. It’s an honest discussion about your life. And we all want to be there to support whatever goes on.”

Harry’s eyelids feel heavy when he blinks. “You talk like my sister-in-law, too.”

“That’s a compliment, I think. In all of Louis’ interviews, he raves about his sisters.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

They pause for a moment, and Felicite takes a step back. “Sorry, Ben, carry on.”

Ben looks at Harry, his expression a bit cloudy. “Harry, goals for the future?”

Harry scratches at the back of his beck. “I’m just trying to make sure Lucy and Al are good, now _and_ in the future. I’m constantly thinking about them. That might seem kind of dumb because they’re grown and Lucy’s married but they’re still all I worry about. When you become a parent, it seems logical, I suppose.”

Leah smiles. “That’s sweet, Harry. You remind me a lot of my own dad.”

“He obviously did a lovely job raising you, so I take that as high praise. Thank you.”

She blushes. “No, thank _you_.” She clears her throat. “Okay, moving on. What are you afraid of? Biggest fears?”

 _This_ is why Harry wanted to get himself out of these fucking interviews. He can’t lie his way out of this one. The truth is written all over his face. His heart is already beating abnormally fast and he hates, hates, _hates_ that he has to do this. His hands are already trembling and clammy. “My biggest fear is that I’m going to feel like this for the rest of my life.”

Leah looks down at the floor. Ben seems to have suddenly gone mute. Felicite takes one for the team. “Feel like what, Harry?”

For the first time ever, this interview feels flat and scripted. They _know_ what he’s feeling. They went to the funeral. They watched him struggle to keep his composure for the better part of three hours. These people are fully aware of the agonizing hell Harry is going through.

But the viewers don’t.

“Feel like I’m drowning without Louis.” No one says anything. He knows they’re waiting for him to continue, so he barrels forward. “I feel like… For the past 12 weeks, since Louis died, I experience new kinds of fear every single day. I can’t catch a fucking break.” He looks around the room, wishing more than _anything_ , Louis was sat next to him, holding his hand, telling him he’s okay. But, of course, that’s impossible. “The day that Louis died, I was the one who found him. Do you know the paralyzing fear of waking up next to your spouse, only to find him dead? I will… I will _never_ be able to recover from that. I just remember touching his hand and it was ice cold and I kept screaming and I feel like I haven’t stopped screaming since.”

Leah wipes tears away from her eyes. “Harry, you don’t have to do this, you know? You don’t owe us anything. What you’ve said is enough.”

He knows she’s right, but he can’t stop. Not now. “The world is going to watch a time lapse of me, falling in love with my best friend. They’re going to fall in love with him, too. I want them to understand what it feels like to try to force yourself _out_ of love with him, just so waking up everyday isn’t excruciating torture. I can’t do this alone. I need other people to fucking understand.”

Leah nods. “Okay. Do what you need to do.”

Harry shifts uncomfortably in the chair. Louis was right. These stools _suck_ . “It was a heart attack, really late at night when we were both in bed. I didn’t even know his heart was a problem… He still looked so beautiful, yeah? He just looked like he was in deep sleep. I hope he didn’t feel any pain, when he passed. My God, the fact that I was laying _right next to him_ , asleep… I should have known. I should have saved him. I keep having this nightmare over and over again that his chest started to hurt and he reached for me but he wasn’t close enough to touch or I just didn’t feel him and then I realize that _maybe_ it wasn’t a nightmare, and that’s _actually_ what happened.

“Everyday, I think the worst has happened, but it only seems to get harder. Like, I thought the worst moment of my life was when I had to watch the paramedics take Louis away. But it turns out, telling our children that he was dead was exceptionally worse. You don’t know fear and pain until you have to tell your daughter and your son that their father is gone. I’ve never had to tell them something to that magnitude, and I kept looking to my left where Louis is usually sat, looking for his help. But that seems so stupid. He can’t help me tell our kids that he’s dead. I had to do it alone. And for the rest of my life, I have to do _everything_ alone. I don't… I don’t know what I'm doing and I need him. Christ, it just gets harder every single day. Especially in the mornings. Because I still automatically reach for his hand but the sheet are always cold. It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair that he died. He was only 63. No one dies at 63. It’s too young. I wasn’t ready. _He_ wasn’t ready. Fuck.”

Harry’s breathing is choppy, tears streaming down his cheeks, and he can’t pull himself together. Since the funeral, he’s remained stoic, putting up a front for everyone, only allowing himself to fall apart when no one’s watching. The only person who is able to break down his walls, though, is Zayn. Probably because he’s the only person who loves Louis almost as much as Harry does.

But now, the barrier is broken, in front of strangers, nonetheless, and he has to keep going. He needs to.

“And the thing is, people keep telling me that time will heal all wounds. How much time do I need, really? Because so far, it’s only gotten worse. It’s like, the more time that passes, the harder it is. My thought process is always the same: I’m an entire day further away from the last time I heard Louis talk, from the last time I kissed him, from the last time I touched him. It makes me panic. How could that be comforting for _anyone_ who’s grieving? I don’t want him to be just a memory anymore.

“Fuck, I’ll never completely get used to the silence, you know? He was so loud, so full of life, and I don’t hear him anymore. I listen for him in everything that I do, I try _so_ hard, and he just _isn’t_ there. I’m now actively forcing myself to listen for his ridiculous laugh or his terrible snoring or his footsteps down the hallway and… It’s awfully quiet. At this point, I’m pretending I can hear him, I’m making up the sounds in my head. Oh my God, I just miss him _so much_.”

Everyone in the room is in tears, and Harry doesn’t know where to look. It hurts. Everything hurts.

“How am I supposed to do this without him? Throughout my entire life, even when he wasn’t there, he was still _there_ . I could have called him. I could have showed up at his house or his flat or anything, really. He was always there. But now, sometimes I forget he isn’t, and I’ll ask him a question and it takes me a moment to wonder why he isn’t responding. Louis, fuck you. Why the _fuck_ aren’t you answering me?! Why the _fuck_ did you have to leave me? You always said I was the stronger of the two of us but that clearly isn’t true. I’m falling apart. I can’t… I can’t stop buying your favourite brands of cereal even though you aren’t here to eat it. I can’t stop recording your football games, even though they sit there, unwatched. I’m not meant to be without you. Please, _please_ , come back to me.”

Harry knows he sounds pathetic, talking to his dead husband via camera. It makes no sense, but for the first time since Louis died, it’s the only thing that’s made him feel like he’s suffocating just a little less. So he continues.

“That one time when we were younger that we didn’t talk for nearly two years, when we were still in uni? Remember that? At the time, I remember thinking it felt like an eternity. But somehow, 12 weeks seems infinitely longer.”

The crew is still silent; no one talks, but everyone is still trying and failing to hold back tears. There are a few people on the set who had worked with Louis before in years prior, late additions to the original crew. They knew him, and they loved him. How could they not? Harry wants to go over and hug every single one of them, just because they share a common bond.

That bond being that they all had and lost Louis Tomlinson.

Harry’s whole body is shaking, and he thinks if he were to start breaking things, he would keep going until he ran out of items. It doesn’t seem like a bad idea. He looks directly at the camera and almost choking on his words, he says, “Love to me is knowing that Louis and I will one day come back together, and I’m _looking forward_ to it. We always came back together, no matter what happened, so why would this be any different? I never doubted that we were supposed to find one another in the future, regardless of the situation or circumstances, because there are people in the present who can’t compare, even still. No one compares to my Louis.” He pauses to wipe his eyes, and for the first time in nearly three months, he laughs. “It’s funny, because I’m sure there are people out there who are infinitely better than my husband.” He looks around the room and sees genuine confusion. He keeps talking. “I’m sure there are people out there who are kinder, funnier, more generous, smarter, who wouldn’t kick me in my sleep or steal my food or tell me I’m terrible in bed, even while we’re still having sex.” That gets a few chuckles around the room, mostly from the people who knew Louis. Such a _Louis_ thing to do. “But that’s how I know what love really is. The fact that I wouldn’t ever trade my husband for a single one of those people.” The smile on his face fades, and the tears slip out again. One would think after 12 weeks of endless crying, the tears would dry up. One would be wrong. “I’ve been sure about a lot of things in my 63 years of living, but the thing I’m most positive of is that I’ll love him for the rest of my life. And that would only be fair, wouldn’t it? He loved me for all of his.”

* * *

 

In the immediate days following Louis' death, Harry is sat at their kitchen table, laptop in front of him, desperately trying to find the words to put together a eulogy that adequately encompasses Louis Tomlinson’s life. And it’s impossible. How is he supposed to come up with something that describes the love and light Louis brought to everyone’s lives? So far, everything that he’s typed feels like an insult, rather than a tribute.

Liam tentatively steps in through the kitchen door. “Harry?”

Harry looks up. He didn’t even hear him pull up. “Hi.”

“How are you?”

Harry whimpers, tears spilling over immediately. “Li…”

Liam’s already crying, too, and he drops to his knees in front of Harry, wrapping his arms around Harry’s middle. “I’m so sorry, Harry. I miss him so much. I miss him and I can’t even imagine how you feel.”

He lets out a choked sob as he buries his face into Liam’s neck. “I’m trying to write a eulogy for my dead husband Louis. Doesn’t that sentence sound like a sick joke to you? I never thought I would ever have to say that. I feel like I’m dying, too, Liam. Help me. Fucking  _ help me. _ ”

Liam grips him harder. “I know, love. It’s unfair. It’s all so unfair.”

Harry doesn’t know how long they sit there. Long enough for his vision to go hazy from crying so hard, and long enough for Liam’s collar to be completely soaked through. Eventually, he sits up and rubs his eyes. “Do you want any help writing it?”

Harry shrugs. “I don’t know what I want.”

Liam nods. “Okay.” He pulls up a seat next to him and drums his fingers on the table, tapping to a nonexistent beat. “You should write about the time Louis was riding his bike down that hill by your house and he flipped over the handlebars and he landed on his face and his nose bled for like, an hour.”

Harry snorts. “I don’t think that story has anything to do with how much I love Louis.”

Liam smiles. “To each his own.”

They sit in silence for a few more minutes, Harry typing out thoughts onto a word document, eventually backspacing nearly the entire thing. “I feel like anything I say just cheapens who Louis is,” he admits.

He nods in agreement. “Louis knows how much you loved him. I think the entire world knows,” Liam says quietly. “You don’t need to prove anything, Harry.”

Harry’s eyes well up again. “We are all coming together to celebrate Louis’ life. It has to be  _ perfect, _ Liam. Don’t you get that?”

“I do. I’m sorry. Just take your time, babe. Whatever you come up with will be beautiful.”

Harry leans into Liam again, tears slipping down his cheeks, and Liam squeezes as tightly as he can.  


At the funeral a few days later, Harry stands up from the front row pews and adjusts his tie. It was a gift from Louis, and he feels better knowing that Louis has touched it before, as absurd as that logic is.

He pulls his notes from his coat pocket and starts to make his way to the podium, but before he can make it any further, Liam, Niall, and Zayn get there first. Confused, he stands still, not understanding what his boys have planned.

Liam speaks into the microphone, his voice broadcasting throughout the church to the astonishing 400+ people that turned up to say goodbye to Louis. “Hello, everyone. My name is Liam Payne, and here beside me, I have Niall Horan and Zayn Malik.” Niall and Zayn each force a weak smile. Liam clears his throat. “Niall, Harry, Louis, and I have been inseparable since year seven. And when Louis met Zayn in university, they fell in love and Louis forced us to love him, too. We do.” Zayn’s smile is real this time.

Niall takes Liam’s spot at the podium. “Liam was with Harry the other night, and he called me and Zayn up. He told us Haz was having a hard time trying to put together a eulogy for Lou. And though I’m sure Harry’s words are lovely, we wanted to help him by saying some stuff about Tommo, some stuff Harry might not remember, or some stuff that he might find too hard to say.”

Harry loves them, he loves them  _ so _ much. He puts his hands together like he’s praying and sits back down in between Lucy and Alexander.

Zayn makes his way up next. “The first time I met Louis Tomlinson, he was dancing on top of a kitchen table, shirtless, and drunk off his arse.” Everyone in the church laughs, and Harry pretends to block the ears of his adult children. “He eventually fell off the table, nearly crushing me, and instead of apologizing like a decent human, he told me to piss off.” Zayn smiles, shaking his head. “I should have hated him. Instead, I let him follow me around the party like a lost puppy, and I couldn’t shake him for the next 43 years. Thank God. I don’t know what I would have done without him for all this time.”

Niall steps back up, sniffling. “One time, when we were 15, we snuck out of his house and teepeed Harry’s house.”

Harry’s jaw drops. “I knew that was you!” he yells out.

Niall slaps his knee, laughing. “I swore Louis I would never tell you but the look on your face is brilliant.” Niall wipes a tear away, composing himself, trying to stop laughing. “Sorry, Styles family, but Louis talked me into it like it was a great idea. Anything he said sounded like a great idea. Christ, he could have told me it was a great idea to rob a bank and I would have agreed. Louis had that way about him. He made everything fun. Everything he did was phenomenal.” Harry bows his head, biting at his bottom lip. “Hey, Harry,” Niall says into the microphone. Harry looks up. “After we filled your mailbox with shaving cream that night, he told me he was in love with you. It was the first time he ever said anything about it.” He scrunches up his nose. “Definitely not the last.”

The three men take turns telling stories about Louis, stories from as early as the age of 12, all the way through this past year. The crowd is in stitches when Liam tells the story of Louis getting trapped in the children’s ball pit at a McDonald’s, and when Zayn describes how Louis streaked across their university’s football field, Harry is nearly snorting he’s laughing so hard. There isn’t a dry eye in the church when Niall talks about the time Louis found a sick kitten on the side of the road, and ran the whole way to the vet with it, tucked inside his coat, trying to keep it warm.

Liam takes the microphone from Niall. “When my grandfather died just after I’d graduated university, Louis refused to leave me alone. He’d just lost his grandmother the year prior, and he told me he knew what it felt like. He was at my flat multiple times a week, checking in on me, bringing by drinks and food and movies. We can tell endless stories about how crazy or wild or ridiculous Louis was, but honestly, I think we can all agree that Louis was the most caring and devoted person any of us have ever had the pleasure of knowing.”

Harry takes that as his cue to approach the front of the church. The three boys make their way down the steps, each giving Harry a gentle pat on the way by, Liam lingering longer than the other two. Harry whispers into his ear, “Thank you, Li.”

Liam nods. “Anything for you. Anything for Louis.”

Harry clears his throat. “Louis used to joke he loved Zayn, Liam, and Niall more than he loved me.” He makes eye contact with them. “Now, I’m not so sure he was kidding.” Zayn winks, Niall blows him a kiss, and Liam purses his lips together. Harry can tell he’s trying not to cry. He’s in good company. “Today, my biggest struggle isn’t coping with Louis’ death, ironically enough. Instead, my biggest struggle today is trying to find the words to describe the kind of man my husband was. I think Liam, Zayn, and Niall kind of covered it. But I wanted to share a side of Louis that only I know, so you can all get a taste of who he was, and why I loved him so very much.”

He pulls out a weathered card from the inside of his jacket and holds it up. “This is a card Louis gave me about a year before Alex was born. And I wanted to read it to all of you. Please bear with me. I’ve never read this out loud, and this probably isn’t the best situation to try it out in for the first time. Okay. Okay.”

He takes a deep breath and opens the card, his vision already blurred. “My dearest Harry, today is your birthday, which means I can’t wake you up and demand pancakes. It means I have to pretend I know how to make them as good as you can, and then you have to pretend to love them, even though we both know they’re gross.” Everyone chuckles. Harry wipes his eyes. “It also means I’m going to tell you what you mean to me, even though I should be telling you everyday, even though I’m sure you already know, anyway.” Inhale, exhale. “Harry, you are my forever best friend, the love of my life, and I can’t believe how honest to God  _ lucky _ I got with you. Your heart is so big and I will never understand why or how you chose to use it loving me. You go above and beyond with everything you do, and I promise, the rest of my life will be spent trying to measure up to the kind of person you are.” Harry swallows a sob, unable to make eye contact with anyone in the room.

He looks over at the front row. Gemma catches his eye, and through her own tears, she mouths, “You’re amazing. Keep going.”

He nods. “Happy birthday to you, my Harry. You are an incredible husband, an even better father, and you will never be able to understand how crazy I am about you. I love you more.”

Harry closes the card and puts it back in his pocket, his bottom lip quivering. “Louis wasn’t wrong about much, but he was wrong about  _ that _ .” He looks up at the ceiling, and then back down at his hands. “Lou, I love you  _ most _ .”

* * *

The day after the interview, Harry struggles to get out of bed, even more than usual. He’s still exhausted from his interview, and he’s sporting puffy red eyes when he gets a knock at the door just after breakfast.

He shrugs on a pair of joggers and a jumper, shuffling toward the door, feeling _much_ older than 63. When he pulls the front door open, he squints into the morning sunlight, and is surprised to see Felicite from _The Up Series_.

“Um, hi,” he says, extremely confused.

“Hi, Harry. Sorry if I’m bothering you.”

“No, you’re not a bother. Was something wrong with the interview?”

She shakes her head. “No, nothing like that.”

He shifts from one leg to the other awkwardly. “Uh, would you like to come in?”

She nods. “Unless you have other things going on…”

Harry smiles. “Love, it’s half eight in the morning. What could I really have going on so early?”

She blushes. “Okay, thank you.”

Felicite follows him inside, quietly removing her shoes, and joins him on the couch. She holds her bag on her lap, fidgeting nervously.

“I just made tea. Would you like a cup, too?”

She swallows. “No, I’m okay.”

They sit silently for another few moments, and Harry can’t take the awkwardness. “Love, is there something you wanted to talk to me about?”

Felicite sits up straighter. “I can’t stop thinking about you and Louis.” Harry goes rigid at the mention of Louis’ name. “I’m so sorry you have to go through this, Harry. And I know I can’t do much to help, but I wanted to show you something. Something I think might bring you some peace.”

Harry shakes his head. “That’s nice of you, Felicite, but there definitely is nothing you can do.” He knows he comes off a bit cold, but he doesn’t care.

She holds her hands up. “I know I’m overstepping my boundaries, so please, just tell me to stop and I will, but I want to show you something.”

The word _leave_ is on the tip of his tongue, but he holds back. He’s curious, and she’s harmless.

Felicite opens up her bag and pulls out her laptop, entering her password, and sorts through a series of files. She places it on the coffee table in front of them. “If you don’t want to see this, tell me to turn it off and I will.”

Harry shrugs, not understanding. “Okay.”

She hits play, and a title screen that says _The Up Series_ pops up, fading into a screen that says “Chapter One: Age 7.”

Harry leans forward with his elbows on his knees, and he almost blacks out when a 7-year-old Louis Tomlinson appears on the screen. His hair is styled into a bowl cut almost, straight and even, right along his eyebrows. He has the goofiest grin on his face, like he _knows_ everyone is completely endeared, and his eyes are piercing blue, brighter than Harry has ever seen them. Tears spring to Harry’s eyes, and he reaches out to touch the laptop, reeling his band back at last second like he’s been burned. The whine that comes out of his mouth is so high-pitched, he almost didn’t realize it was coming from his mouth.

“That’s my Lou. That’s _my_ Lou,” he cries, completely in awe, his hand covering his open mouth. “That’s the first day I ever met him. Look at him. Look how fucking beautiful he was, even then.” Tears slide down his cheeks and he whispers, “Oh my God.”

Felicite presses pause. “Do you want me to stop?”

Harry’s trembling, positively shaking, and he’s torn. “I don’t know,” he admits honestly. “I think this will probably feel like a punch to the throat but I can’t look away.”

She smiles. “If it gets too much--”

“Hit play, Felicite.”

She giggles, knowing she’s won, and hits the spacebar. Louis immediately comes back to life, and he’s radiant. Harry chokes back another sob.

“Hi! I’m Louis William Tomlinson and I am seven! My best friend’s name is Stan.” He flashes the cutest smile Harry’s ever seen, and he’s positively melting.

“Look how fucking cute he is! Listen to his little baby voice. I don’t remember him sounding like that!” he shrieks, turning to Felicite. She’s beaming.

“I have a mom and a dad and a sister named Charlotte, but we call her Lottie. She’s a baby. She doesn’t talk a whole lot.”

Harry watches as little Louis scrunches up his face, listening to Eloise and Augustus off camera. “Louis, what goals do you have for yourself right now?”

Louis is nearly jumping up and down on his chair, and Harry’s staring so intently, he doesn’t think he’s blinked once since this started. “Umm. To be really good at football. I’m getting better, I think. Me mum tells me if I want to get better, I need to practice more.”

“What about goals for the future?”

Louis’ face lights up. Harry nearly whimpers. “I’m gonna be a professional football player! Who wants my autograph?”

The crew laughs and Harry does, too. It’s just so typical of him, even as young as he is.

“Louis, do you have any fears?”

Louis’ gaze bounces around from the camera, to the ceiling, to the floor. “What am I afraid of?”

Off camera, Augustus says, “Exactly.”

Louis shrugs. “I dunno. Probably of Mrs. Matson. She’s my teacher this year and I don’t think she likes me very much.” Louis’ eyes go wide. “Please don’t tell her.” The crew laughs, and Eloise assures Louis that his secret is safe with them.

Harry remembers Louis telling him about his paralyzing fear of Mrs. Matson when they were younger. He’d made Harry swear he’d never tell anyone, after he somehow had the idea in his head that if Mrs. Matson ever found out, she’d lock Louis in a closet every day at school. Even then, Harry knew it was ridiculous, but he went along with it anyway, and after Harry promised he’d never share his secret, they shook on it.

“Last question, love,” Eloise says, and Louis perks up.

“Wow! That was fast!”

“You’re doing an amazing job,” Augustus praises. “Louis, what does love mean to you?”

Louis’ smile is nearly blinding, and Harry starts to cry again. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to stop. “You should see how Lottie looks at me when I come home from school. Like I said, she doesn’t talk much, but she doesn’t have to. I can tell how much she loves me.”

Harry can hear Jay in the background, and his heart aches for her in a different way. He has to close his eyes for a moment, rubbing his fingers across his temple.

“You’re right, baby, she _does_ love you,” Jay says sweetly. Harry honestly might be sick.

“I know! That’s what I said!” He smirks at the camera, and it slowly fades out.

Felicite taps the spacebar again. “Do you want to keep going?” she asks quietly.

Harry wipes away tears streaking his face. “Wait, you have more?”

She nods. “If you want, you can watch every interview he completed.”

Harry doesn’t know if he can do that. It’s too much to think about, watching Louis grow into the man he fell desperately in love with, right before his eyes. There’s a lump in his throat, but he nods before he can change his mind. “Yeah, let’s see age 14.”

Felicite presses play again, and the picture fades back in. The screen reads “Chapter Two: Age 14,” and Harry isn’t prepared for how much worse 14 will be compared to seven.

A young, teenage Louis is sat before them, and Harry immediately starts sobbing.

“Stop. Press stop,” he says, his face already in his hands.

Felicite obeys instantly, her hand finding its way to Harry’s back. She rubs gently. “We don’t have to do anymore,” she says quietly, soothingly. “If you want me to, I can leave a copy of the interviews here with you so you can watch them when you’re ready.”

“I’m never going to be ready,” he says honestly, his voice hoarse. He lifts his head up and inhales, exhales. He repeats until his body isn’t trembling anymore. “No, you know what? There is a piece of Louis Tomlinson out there that exists, and I haven’t witnessed it yet. I haven’t been a part of it yet. It’s like I get to meet him all over again. Just keep going. I’ll be okay.”

“Really?”

“No. But I want to be. And I think this is a start.”

Felicite smiles warily. “Okay then. We have some work to do.”

Harry leans forward and taps the spacebar before she has the chance.

14-year-old Louis is sat on the same stool Harry has recorded several interviews on, his dirty blonde hair sweeping across his forehead, his thin lips quirked up into a devious smile.

Harry whines, unable to stop staring. “This is about the time I realized I was in love with him,” he whispers. “I can remember we’d be sat on his couch, watching a film or listening to music, and I’d make any excuse to make physical contact with him. It occurred to me after a few months that that’s not a normal friend thing. Jesus, I _always_ wanted to touch him.”

Felicite nods. “I think you’re going to like this interview, Harry.”

“Hello!” Louis nearly shrieks. “I’m Louis Tomlinson, I’m 14, I still love football and I still love Stan. But now I have three new best friends, Harry, Liam, and Niall. They all think I’m hilarious.” He raises an eyebrow. “Duh.”

Harry snorts at that. “He was always such an arse,” he mumbles.

Louis flicks his hair out of his eyes, and goes on to talk about earning better marks in school, and getting better at helping his mum with his siblings at home.

“It’s not just me and Lottie anymore, you know,” he says. “Mum had me sister Felicite a couple years after Lottie, and then she had twin girls last year. Phoebe is a lot louder than Daisy. Mum says she’s a lot like me.” There’s a hint of pride in his eyes. Harry can’t hold back his smile.

Louis talks about his family for a bit longer, and when Augustus asks him about his fears, Louis freezes. Eventually, he starts squirming on the stool. “‘m afraid to ever lose my best friend. I’ve grown up with him and he’s everything, yeah? He's everything and he's curly and he's the best thing about my life.”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut. Louis is _still_ everything. “How could he not know how obsessed with him I was?” he asks, not looking for an answer. Felicite doesn’t say anything.

“He’s different from me other friends,” Louis continues, expression solemn. “I don’t really know how. I just know that he is. And I… I need him.” Louis trails off as he listens intently as Augustus asks him the final question. “I don’t really know what love is? But I do know what it feels like, I think. It’s when I’m the only one who can get the twins to sleep, or the look Lottie and Felicite give me when I surprise them when I pick them up from school.” He blushes. “It’s when I pull Harry in for a cuddle and I can feel his heart beating like _crazy_ , but I know mine is beating even faster.”

  


Harry and Felicite take a break after that. He goes into the kitchen to brew tea, Felicite trailing behind him. She settles herself in a chair at the kitchen counter and says, “Your home is lovely, Harry.”

He smiles. “Thank you. Louis is the one who chose it.”

“It feels comfortable here.”

“That’s what Lou said when we were trying to decide between this one and another. He liked the bay windows over there,” he says gesturing toward the living room. “‘m glad I listened. It’s one of my favourite things about the house.” It occurs to Harry that this is the first conversation he’s had about Louis since he died without feeling like he’s going to scream or cry or throw up. His heart isn’t in his throat. He stirs his tea, deep in thought. “Tell me how you managed to become a part of _The Up Series_ team.”

She beams at that, and jumps into discussing her experience at university, obviously in love with her career. Harry listens, his attention never wavering, and eventually, she trails off.

“There are 18 people included in this series, and you and Louis aren’t the most interesting,” she says.

Harry barks out a laugh. “Oh, gee, thanks.”

“No!” she backtracks, laughing too. “I mean, there are people involved in the series who have done some crazy things. We have one guy who moved to the States, gained American citizenship, and now works for NASA. We have a woman who had triplets. There’s one woman we’ve been following across the entire world. She’s lived in 17 countries. But somehow…” Felicite looks wistful when she says, “Your story with Louis is the one everyone wants to watch the most. It’s so pure and beautiful. And we’re all still rooting for you, Harry.”

Harry doesn’t answer. He lets Felicite’s words sink in. Eventually, he looks up. “Do you want to hear more about Louis? Things that didn’t make the interviews?”

Her nod is instant, and Harry takes off.

He tells her about their first kiss, the first time they snuck alcohol and got drunk, their first fight. He tells her about their decision to go to different universities, and how he cried when Louis told him that he wanted to go to a school apart from Harry.

“He told me he wanted to get the chance to miss me,” he says, and smiles. “That first year, he called me every night to tell me what a stupid decision it was. And even when we were apart for those few years, he told me later on that he missed me the entire time. Stupid boy.”

Harry continues, telling Felicite about their wedding, the birth of Lucy, Alex, and Jay’s diagnosis. About the way Louis was so bloody mad when Harry adopted a puppy, but ended up being the one to allow the dog to sleep in the bed with them. About the way Louis would complain of how exhausted he was, but he’d still wake up at five in the morning after a long night at the bar to make lunches and set out outfits for his kids. About the way Harry never doubted Louis, not even at their worst, not even when they were separated. About how hard it was to stay together, but how much harder it was to stay apart.

He looks up at Felicite. “I remember Louis telling me years and years ago when we were broken up that the thing he missed most about our relationship was our friendship, and I can agree with that in this point in time. I miss the intimacy, of course, but it’s knowing my best friend is gone… That’s the hardest part. And now I feel like I’m grasping at anything I can to stay close to him.” Harry sips what’s left of his tea and sets it down on the coffee table. “Let’s finish the interviews. Wanna be close to him for a little bit.”

He’s rooting for himself, too.  


 

“Chapter Three: Age 21” flashes across the screen. A gorgeous, university aged Louis is sat on a chair and he flashes a smile, wavering a bit.

“Hello, again. I’m Louis, 21, and I’m in my second year of university. First year was good. These past few weeks… Not so much.”

“Care to elaborate?” Augustus asks.

Louis waves him off. “Nah. Let’s just roll.”

They talk about his current and future goals, and Harry bites at his bottom lip. He almost forgot how beautiful Louis was at this age, probably because they spent so much time apart. It makes his heart sit heavy in his chest. His fingers ache to reach through the screen and touch him.

When Augustus asks Louis about his fears, Louis scrunches up his face.

“Fuck,” he whispers, rubbing his hands across his face. “I’m so scared that I made the wrong decision to end it with Harry. I mean, I know I did. I’m just hoping it’ll get better. It has to, right? One day I’ll stop feeling like this?” He sounds so unsure of himself and his voice cracks on the last word. Harry lets his head fall back against the couch. “These past few weeks have been unbearable without him, yeah? Just want to fast forward and get to the good part. The good part being a time in my life that I don’t want to lay in traffic.” Harry nods with him, understanding then, understanding now.

Louis wraps up his interview with, “Love to me is Harry.” He shrugs. “We’re not together, I don’t know if we will ever be able, but my God, the only thing I associate with Harry is love.”

Harry rearranges himself on the couch, swallowing hard, when “Chapter Four: Age 28” flashes across Felicite’s laptop screen.

“I’m Louis Tomlinson, I’m 28, and I’m fucking _married_.”

Harry bursts out into laughter at that, his eyes watery regardless, and when Louis flashes his wedding band, Harry all but slides onto the floor.

Louis spews on about nothing for a while, basically just filler words, but Harry can’t stop listening. These are new sentences, new thoughts from Louis that Harry hasn’t heard before. It feels good to learn something new about his Louis, even though he’s been gone for three months.

“Oh my God, I just love him so much, you know?” Louis says, his eyes immediately filling up. “If you _dare_ show him this footage, I’ll fucking kill all of you.” The crew laughs, and Louis continues. Harry’s dimple pops out at that. “Like, I’ve watched me mum go through so much shit in her life with men and marriage and I always assumed that’s the way I would be headed, too. It never occurred to me that I could be happy, and someone like Harry would want to love me forever. I’m just so lucky. So, yeah. That’s what love is to me. But that’s also what I’m afraid of, too. Fear that this could all fall apart, but knowing Harry loves me enough to never let that happen.”  
  
  


When “Chapter Five: Age 35” slides across the screen, Harry has to press pause for this one. He remembers the way he felt suffocated when doing his own interview at this age. They had two young kids at the time, and it was the first point in their marriage that they both thought they were too far gone to be able to salvage it. When he thinks back to it, he recalls Louis being visibly upset after completing his questions, and now he’s anxious to find out.

He works up the courage to hit play once more, and he has to close his eyes, tears sliding out, hating how much this all hurts, hating how cathartic it is, somehow.

“I’m Louis, I’m 35, I’ve been married for almost a decade, Christ,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been a father for six years. It doesn’t get easier.” He smiles, sighs deeply. “I opened my own bar a few years back, called it Route 7, and I run it with Niall Horan. It keeps me busy. I love it, I really do.” He jumps into the first question without Augustus prompting it. “My goals for right now would be to get Harry to love what the bar has done _for_ us, instead of what it’s done _to_ us.”

Off camera, Eloise asks, “What do you mean, love?”

Louis shrugs. “The bar has been very successful. So successful, that it was an easy decision for Harry to quit his job to stay home with Luce when she was born. He wanted to, and we had more than enough income, even with him being unemployed. We are financially stable, and we will be for the rest of our lives, assuming this keeps up. I’ve been smart about this. I’ve researched it. I never would have suggested Harry quit his job to become a full-time father if I wasn’t confident in our future and savings. He doesn’t focus on that. Instead, he focuses on the fact that I’m not around as much, that I’m only a part-time father.”

“Has he ever said that to you?”

“No. But he doesn’t have to. And it pisses me off. Just because I can’t stay home with my kids doesn’t mean I don’t _want_ to. I’m _not_ a part-time father. At least I’m not a part-time _husband_ , like him.”

Harry clenches his jaw. He’s heard these words many times, the first time being just a few weeks after they recorded these interviews. It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, though, hearing them again, nearly 30 years later.

“We’ve been going through a shit year. Sometimes I feel like he can’t even look at me. But then again, I can’t always look at him either.” Louis pauses to take a deep, shaky breath. “We have our kids. I love them so much. No one will understand how much I love them, except for Harry, maybe. Probably. Fuck, I just hate that we’re barely husbands anymore. We’re just… Dads. And that’s it. When did this happen?”

Harry can tell Louis is zoning out when Augustus asks him the next question, presumably so he won’t start crying, and it’s written all over his face. His next few sentences are barely coherent. He wraps up the interview with blotchy cheeks, trying to talk about what love means to him without jumping straight out of his seat. And Harry can relate. He remembers all of this all too well. His own tears slide down his cheeks, and he doesn’t try to stop them. “I love my bar. I love my job, my career. I love knowing that Route 7 is the reason my family is financially set, and I’ve had the time of my life with my mates inside of that disgusting building.” He closes his eyes. “Love is giving up all of that to make Harry happy. I would do anything for him.”

  


Harry is conflicted as he watches the rest of Louis’ interviews. It’s unbearable, yet necessary for his wellbeing, to watch the love of his life grow before his eyes. He witnesses the way the crow’s lines around his Louis’ eyes deepen, the way his face grow a little softer, the way his voice get a little raspier, and it hurts. He rewatches the interviews that Louis was unable to stop talking about Harry, talking about how obsessed he is with him, and it makes Harry feel short of breath. He missed Louis’ sweet words, though typically few and far between, and it feels so _good_ to hear them again, even if it’s brief and just a recording.

He loves listening to Louis talk about their kids, about how panicked he was to send them off to university, about how much he loves Lucy’s husband but will never let him know that (“Need to keep some fear instilled, yeah?” Louis jokes), about how proud he is of Al for exploring Europe and parts of the United States before finally finding his permanent footing back in London, landing his dream job in the center of the city. Harry finds himself nodding along when Louis discusses his hopes and dreams for his kids. Still on the same page when it comes to their family, even separated by galaxies. It makes him smile.

He’s in stitches when a 21-year-old Louis looks directly into the camera and says, “Harry Edward Styles. I’m trying to move on, and I know you are too, but I miss you. I miss you so much and I’m so tired of wanking to the thought of you.” His whole face lights up when Louis blushes, talking about how much he loves his sisters and his mum. And then he loses it in a different way when a 40-year-old Louis with sunken in cheekbones whispers, “I’m never alone… But I’m always lonely.”

His year 49 interview is the worst, the one Harry had refused to complete. Louis can barely look at the camera, he’s head hanging down. “I fucked up, I fucked it all up. It didn’t start off as my fault, but I didn’t try to fix it soon enough, and now my husband - my _Harry_ \- is a stranger. I can’t fix this with a surprise dinner in California this time. By the time I realized he was slipping for good, by the time I realized I had to say something, it was too late and all I could do was choke on my own words. I’m not the best at conveying emotions, and Harry knows that. But I should have did something, _anything_ .” He doesn’t say much else, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbones. Harry can tell he’s trying to be light and breezy, trying not to show too much of anything, but he’s failing miserably. His heart nearly shatters when Louis whispers his final words. “My biggest fear is that Harry and I won’t be together the next time we talk. I am truly, genuinely afraid we will legally not to be together. And I add the word ‘legally’ because, essentially, we aren’t together right now.” He hiccups. “And… Christ, what the fuck is love…” He finally looks up at the camera, and Harry can’t get over the _blue_ of his eyes. Unbelievable. “Harry and I don’t touch anymore, hardly even allow ourselves to breathe in the same air, but every single night, he still reaches for my hand under the covers, long after he’s fallen asleep. He doesn’t know he’s doing it. I’m not going to ever tell him. But that means that love has to be deep down in there somewhere, even if he thinks it’s all gone. It has to be. I’m not in denial. I’m just _hopeful_.”

Harry has to take a break after that. He never knew he grabbed Louis’ hand in his sleep, but he isn’t all that surprised. He looks over at Felicite, who also has tears shining in her eyes. It’s incredible, really, that everyone Harry knows, has done nothing but fucking cry in his presence for _months_.

“Felicite… I would have never thought to watch this, but I’m so glad you showed up here at my front door this morning. I didn’t know I needed to watch it. But I did.”

She smiles, sniffling. “You and your husband have made quite the impact, if you didn’t know. It’d be a shame for you not to see it from the outside, to witness it like the rest of us did. Thank you for letting us in, for letting us be a part of it.”  


 

He saves Louis’ final interview for when he’s alone. Felicite sends it to him in an email, and early the next morning, he opens it, not wanting it to end, but desperate to see new parts of Louis, parts he hasn’t memorized or touched before.

He sips at his tea wearing Louis’ favourite oversized jumper, the first time he’s allowed himself to go near any of Louis’ clothing since before he died. It feels soft and it still smells like him. It’s dizzying.

Louis comes to life for one final time on Harry’s laptop, and his exhale is shaky as he takes in the view of his husband. _This_ Louis is the closest version to the one Harry loved most recently. Though recorded almost seven years prior to his death, he looks about the same. His hair is a bit browner, less greys and whites, and a couple of creases by his eyes that were there when he died aren’t yet present, but it’s pretty damn close. Harry pinches the bridge of his nose. He misses Louis _so_ much.

“Hello there, I’m Louis, I’m 56, and I bet you are all so fucking tired of listening to me talk by now.” The crew laughs - as does Harry - and Louis continues. “I don’t remember everything I said in the past few interviews, but I’m sure it was all pretty embarrassing. There’s nothing worse than a sad, mopey Tommo.” Harry fights the urge to scoff. _This_ is more embarrassing, watching his late husband refer to himself as ‘Tommo.’ Despicable. He smiles, regardless. “‘m good now. We’re all good. I don’t ever want to give a depressing interview again, Christ.” He throws his hands up in the air.  “Oi! The drama of it all!” Harry bursts out into laughter.

Louis keeps going. “I feel good to be here, and it’s taken me a long time to get to this point. Too long. ‘m feeling lucky right now.” He licks his lips. “Harry just finished up his interview an hour or so ago, and he’s out now, getting food for dinner. So I’m gonna try to do this quickly, yeah? Wanna talk to him about how his questioning went, and I love it when he cooks me dinner. He’s not even _that_ shit at it.”

Harry shakes his head. _What a twat_ . “Fuck you, my cooking is _delicious_ ,” he says out loud.

The interviewer - a voice that starts off as familiar, Harry eventually figuring out that it’s Ben from his own most recent interview - asks Louis, “What are your current goals?”

“Mmm. To wrap up this interview in about six minutes. I’m not kidding. He’s making a roast tonight.” He pulls an exaggerated face and winks to prove he’s teasing. “Probably to make it a nightly routine to call both Luce and Al. We’ve been making it a habit for a couple of weeks now, and they don’t seem to be bothered by it yet, so I want to keep it up. Even if it’s only for five minutes, it’s enough.”

“Goals for your future?”

Louis stretches in his chair and yawns. “Probably to buy a second home with Harry. I would love something closer to the ocean for us. Or maybe in the mountains. One time, we got snowed in at a cabin up north, and it was… A good time.”

Harry could scream. He never knew Louis wanted to purchase another property, but that’s not _really_ the part he’s focusing on. Louis just brought up their most intimate, _worst_ vacation, whilst being completely nonchalant, and now it’s all he can focus on. Fucking Louis.

They were 27, newly engaged, and Harry took Louis to the mountains for a birthday surprise. But much like the proposal, everything sucked before it actually began. The cabin was significantly smaller than it was advertised, it didn’t have any of the amenities listed, and the closest store was 14 miles away. They made do with what they had, but the real problems started on day three, when an undetected snowstorm blew in, completely blocking them in, preventing them from leaving.

Harry had woken up on the morning of day four with Louis’ mouth around his cock, sucking him off like he was born to do it, and Harry gripped Louis’ hair immediately.

“Baby,” he slurred, instantly wide awake.

Louis looked up, his gaze piercing. He pulled off of Harry’s cock and stroked him roughly. “You brought me to a shit cabin in the middle of nowhere and I’m spending my birthday present stuck inside these four walls with your ugly mug. You’re gonna fuck me so hard, that I forget about any of that.”

Harry propped himself up on his elbows. “Yes, yeah, I can do that, want to do that.” Louis reached behind his back, and Harry could tell he was fingering himself. “Can I do that for you?”  
Louis snorted. “No. You can’t.”

“I most definitely can.”

“‘m almost done.” And he wasn’t lying. He slid his mouth up and down Harry’s cock only four more times before pulling off entirely, and then straddled Harry’s hips. “Gonna ride you.”

Harry’s breath hitched. “Yes. Yes, baby.”

Louis sank down easily, tight and hot around Harry, and worked up a quick rhythm. Harry couldn’t take his eyes off of him, Louis swiveling his hips, moaning so beautifully. It didn’t take long for either of them to come after that.

 _Fucking Louis_.

He forces himself to stop thinking about the cabin, and focuses back on Louis’ interview.

“I’m afraid that my family doesn’t know what they mean to me, yeah? When me mum died, I didn’t have any doubts about how much she loved me and my siblings, but she didn’t have enough time to say it as many times as she wanted to. I’m afraid of not having enough time to tell my kids, to tell Harry… He told me a long time ago that in one of his interviews, he would choose me every single time. I never forgot about that. Hey, Hazza, if you ever end up watching this, this is my way of telling you what you mean to me…” He actually _blushes_ , and Harry nearly shrieks. “Thank you, love. I’d let you pick me every single time, too.” He looks directly into the camera and winks, and once Harry has recovered from the butterflies in the pit of his stomach, he nearly rolls his eyes at the fact that Louis just flirted with him.

From beyond the grave.

“Fucking Louis,” he murmurs, heart lodged in his throat. “I’m gonna be in love with you forever, aren’t I?” Louis obviously doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t need to.  
  


Harry will always love him.

Simple as that.


	5. Part V: Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forever  
> does not seem  
> too far away.
> 
> Sometimes it is  
> after we lose someone  
> when we learn to love.
> 
> Where hope,  
> and dreams greet,  
> and everything is perfect  
> the way  
> it was meant to be.
> 
> So hear me,  
> soon enough  
> we will meet again  
> old friend.
> 
> I will carry your soul  
> in my heart.
> 
> The same heart you  
> helped me build.
> 
> \-- RM Drake

_**September  
Age 84** _

“Hello, I’m Harry Styles, I’m 84, and this is my 12th interview. Jesus Christ.”

Felicite giggles. “It’s been a long time,” Leah says, smiling.

“Indeed.”

By habit, he talks about Lucy and Alex, about their jobs, spouses, and children. And of course, he talks about Louis. Each time he does this, it gets easier. It apparently shows on his face.

“It’s so lovely to see you in this type of mood when you talk about Lou,” Felicite says, her expression soft.

“I’m always in a good mood when I discuss Louis,” Harry says, shrugging. “It took a few years to say that with honesty, but now, I feel good. I swear.”

His joints creak when he stretches. He talks about his goals (both current and future, to spend as much time with his grandchildren as he can), his fears (“The last of my hair falling out,” he jokes), and what love means.

“Love is the way my idiot best friends haven’t left me alone _once_ since Louis died. Give it a rest, guys, it’s been 21 years.”

The interviewer - still Ben from the past few years - laughs. “That’s nice! They don’t want you to be alone.”

“That’s what they tell me.”

He raves about his still solid relationship with Ellis and James, whom he sees at more than just reunions, and puts his hands together like he’s praying when he talks about Liam and Niall. “Honestly, I don’t know what I would have done without them. Liam took over Louis’ spot at the bar so Niall didn’t have to sell, and it makes me so happy to see Route 7 still up and running, even though Louis isn’t there. Niall and Liam don’t spend much time there anymore, either, seeing as we’re all old and can barely move…” He shudders and the crew laughs. “But, it’s still in their name. And whenever we make our way there, we raise a glass to Lou. It’s lovely.” He smirks. “And don’t even get me _started_ on Zayn fucking Malik.”

Ben shrugs. “Why’s that?”

“He just… Fell apart when Lou died, yeah? But he never let it show, not if I was around, at least. He and his wife Grace took care of me. They kept me alive.”

Leah nods. “I always knew you’d have an incredible support system.”

“I do.”

She pauses. “I never, uh, knew if this was appropriate to ask in interviews past but…”

Harry waves his hands. “Go on, love.”

“Have you dated since Louis?”

He smiles. “I have.”

“And?”

“Nothing really serious. I saw a few people, but none of them lasted more than a year.”

“A year is a long time!”

He shrugs. “His name is Michael, and he was just lonely too, I think. Like me. We spent a lot of time talking about the Louis’. Funny, innit, that his late husband was also named Louis.”

Felicite smiles. “So, single now, are you?”

“I am. Interested?”

She laughs. “Maybe 40 years ago I would have been. Or, you know, if you were straight.”

“Rude!” he scoffs jokingly. They kid back and forth, a casual conversation more than an interview, and when they taper off, Harry crosses his hands in his lap. “I was really conflicted about dating again, and it took me forever to even _agree_ to attempt it. The first date I went on was an utter disaster. When Zayn asked me how it went, I told him, ‘It sucked. He wasn’t frustrating enough.’” He rolls his eyes at himself. “Nobody is meant to be Louis, nobody could even come remotely _close_ to being who he was, and even if I wanted to, I could never replace him. He is absolutely irreplaceable, many could attest to that. And that’s what I’ve made peace with in the past 21 years.”  


 

After the crew leaves, he sits by the bay windows in the living room that Louis always raved about. Before, the windowsill was lined with pictures of Harry and Louis together, Lucy and Alex as babies, and a variety of group photos of their families and friends. Now, it’s been limited to just Harry and Louis’ grandkids (and pictures of Harry and Louis from their glory days, of course). Louis hasn’t met his three grandsons and one granddaughter, but Harry knows he would be _obsessed_.

Harry looks out the window, loving the way the raindrops race down it. He refuses to sell the house because of he loves how the rain sounds when it hits the glass.

Well, that’s not the _only_ reason, he thinks with a smile, looking around the room at all of his memories that haven taken place inside these walls. Beautiful memories.  


* * *

Year 84 is the last interview Harry will ever complete for _The Up Series_ , and comfortingly enough, it’s the first interview that leaves him feeling light with a genuine, weathered and dimpled grin making its appearance before, during, and after the taping.

He was wrong, though, wrong about himself and Louis; it’s clear to him now: they have never been ordinary.

 _They are exceptional_.

  


And that's the first thing he plans to tell his boy when he sees him again.


End file.
